MY WINTEK IN CUBA. 



BT W. M. L. JAY, 

Author of " S7iUo7i." 






This country excels all others, as far as the day surpasses the night in brightness 
and splendor.— Columbus. 

A land of leaf and bloom, 
Of shining palm and drooping coco-tree, 
Of spiced mimosa, tremulous bamboo, 
And giant ceiba, in an air of balm. 

Luto. 






NEW YORK: 

E. P. BUTTON & CO., 713 BROADWAY. 

HARTFORD: CHURCH PRESS. 

1871. 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by 

E. P. DUTTON & CO., 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



m. h. malloey a co., 

Peintebs and Electbotypebs. 

habtfoed. conn. 






%. 




/a 



HOJIE-CKROLE, 

j^OR WHOSE pEAR ^YES IT WAS J^IRST WRITTEN, 

®ljt0 dljrcmtck 

IS RIGHTFULLY DEDICATED. 



PREFACE 



The personal pronoun " my " in the title of the 
present work is explanatory, not egotistical. The 
""Winter" herein described is mine, and not another's, 
in that it deals so largely with that domestic side of 
Cuban life, which few travellers ever see, and whereof 
none, to my knowledge, have ever written. The 
reader may find elsewhere more graphic descriptions 
of Cuba's scenery, combined with accurate tables of 
her statistics, and profound views of her politics ; but 
he will find no work that opens to him so frankly the 
doors of Cuban homes, and allows him to watch the 
inner currents of Cuban life. JSTor could the present 
narrative have flowed thus freely across private 
thresholds, except by the use of fictitious names. 
There may have been Samanos in Cuba, but I never 
saw them there. The real names of my kind enter- 
tainers are stereotyped only on my heart. But, with 
this slight exception, the narrative may be relied upon 
as strictly true. 

If it be found to touch but lightly upon matters 
of policy and government, it is because their present 



VI PREFACE. 

aspect is felt to be so transitory. Enough, has been 
said to show that the Cubans had cause for revolt; 
more might cease to be pertinent between the pen and 
the press. "Whether the present rebellion succeed or 
no, its ultimate effect can scarcely fail to be beneficial 
to the Cubans. "Whether that benefit is to come 
through amelioration of the Spanish, rule, independ- 
ence, or annexation, it is not worth while to predict. 
But all those who have felt the fascination of the 
beautiful island, and keep her fair memory in their 
hearts, will most devoutly pray that it come soon, and 
bring with it social, political, and religious regenera- 
tion. 

Hudson, N. Y., July, 1871. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

I. Wherefore, 9 

II. The Voyage, . . . . . .• . .12 

III. Landing and Hotel, . . . . . .16 

IV. At the Retreta, 26 

V. The Palace and Plaza, 33 

VI. Within and Without the Walls, ... 39 
VII. Columbus.— The Cathedral, .... 49 

VIII. The Fish-Market, 61 

IX. Shopping. — Street Sights. — La Fuerza, . . 69 

X. From Havana to Matanzas, . . . ' . 80 

XI. Every Morning, . . . . . . .92 

XII. During the Day, 103 

XIII. Every Evening, 117 

XIV. The Valley of Tumuri, . . . . . .131 

XV. Las Cuevas de Bellamar, 140 

XVI. A Procession, 155 

XVII. A Te Deum, 162 

XVIII. Sunday Seeings and Doings, . . . . 169 
XIX. The Entrance and Exit of Lent, . . .184 

XX. Cosas de Cuba, 195 

XXI. To Santa Sofia, 211 

XXII. The Ingenio, 217 

XXIII. Plantation Pictures, 227 

XXIV. Fere in the Cane! 247 

XXV. A Cafetal, 252 

XXVI. Bemba and Llmonar, 264 

XXVII. Shadow, 270 

XXVIII. Waiting in Havana, 278 

XXIX. Departure, 293 



My "Winter in Cuba. 



CHAPTER I. 

WHEEEFOEE. 



a /CHANGE of climate," prescribed the doctor, at 
the end of his wits and the materia medica. 

I only looked into the fire, and smiled. Bnt the 
doctor quickly diagnosed the smile, and detected satire. 

""Well?" said he, in his crisp, no-time-to-waste, 
professional tone. 

" I was reminded," said I, " of a ludicrous little inci- 
dent that I witnessed last summer. A frightened ox- 
team ran away with an empty cart and a drunken 
driver. After the clumsy vehicle had been violently 
whisked over logs and rocks, and through bushes and 
briars, and the unhappy occupant, clutching at the air, 
alternately rolled from side to side and end to end 
thereof, the one was upset and the other pitched into a 
wayside ditch. 'Why didn't you jump out? ' chorused 
the bystanders, as they picked him up. 'I sh-should 
just like to know,' hiccoughed he, angrily, 'h-how I 
could jump out, when I c-couldn't stay in ! ' " 
1* 



10 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

" Oh ! the jumping out can be managed for you," 
said le cure, benignantly. 

" Certainly," quoth the doctor, with a twinkle in his 
eye. " Was not the story intended to point the moral 
that people who can neither stay in nor jump out, must 
be pitched out ? How would you like to be pitched into 
Florida, for instance ? " 

I shrugged my shoulders ungraciously. I had all 
an invalid's reluctance to move out of the narrow orbit 
wherein he has swung so long as to be at once tired of 
it and wedded to it. 

" There is Juan's invitation," suggested le cure. 

" Eh ! what ? " said the doctor, discovering a gleam 
of something like interest in my face. 

" Juan," briefly explained le cure, " is a youth who 
was consigned to us by a mutual friend, three years 
ago, with the handsomest of Spanish faces, and the 
most stubborn of Spanish tongues, to be taught English. 
He stayed with us two years, became to us as a brother, 
went hence to Cuba, and is continually entreating one 
or all of us to visit him there." 

"The very thing!" said the doctor, rising. "Pack 
up your fig leaves, and be off at once ! " 

"Pray," asked I, "can you tell me whether said 
leaves should be plucked from a flax plant or a sheep's 
back?" 

He hesitated, with his hand upon the door-knob. 

"Write to la Clarita" said le cure. "She visited 
Cuba, you remember." 

The doctor nodded approvingly and shut the door. 



WHEREFORE. 11 

This was what la Clarita wrote back : 

" Fig leaves, did you ask ? Those which you shed 
in the hottest part of last summer — if they are not too 
faded. The Cuoans, when they outgrow their Eden 
garment of innocence (which is not so early as sophisti- 
cated foreigners could wish !), get the summer fashions 
from Paris, and wear them throughout the year. T" 
porqui no ?- Have they not summer all the time ? " 

And thus it came to pass that I spent a winter in 
Cuba, and wrote thereof as follows : — 



CHAPTER H.< 

THE VOYAGE. 

TTEAVY clouds brooded above, and the air was 
thick with snow. It was the dreariest of drear 
December days. From the deck of the "Eagle," I 
watched the forms of friends on shore merge and fade 
in the distance, and their waving handkerchiefs flicker 
and go out like spent lamps. After them glided the 
snow-whitened shores of the harbor, the islands, the 
Narrows ; over me settled a sense of isolation and exile 
chiller than the snowflakes, and grayer than the gather- 
ing twilight. Only those who have tasted this one 
great drop of bitterness in the pleasant cup of foreign 
travel, can realize how completely, for the trme, it 
neutralizes every sweetness which Hope and Imagi- 
nation present to the lips. It seems as if no land, 
however bright with tropical sunshine, however mossed 
and garlanded with legend, song, or story, can ever be 
so fair as that which is fast becoming only a blue line 
upon the horizon ; and which, when it sinks beneath the 
wave, seems to have left you homeless in the world. 

For change of scene, temperature, and mood, I went 
below. A forlorn circle of passengers was drawn round 
a huge, red stove, which toasted their faces, without 



THE VOYAGE. 13 

in the least mitigating the chill at their backs. My 
stateroom was like an icehouse. Fig leaves, indeed ! I 
wished that mine had been of sable and otter, six deep ! 
Fortunately, the good ship "Eagle" had foreseen the 
want, and provided ample store of blankets. In these 
I wrapped myself, and wondered how she stood it, with 
full dress of naught but ropes and spars, and for robe de 
nuit a wet sheet and a flowing sea ! 

It would seem that every pain turns to something like 
pleasure in the retrospect. Else, why should sea-voya- 
gers invariably linger so lovingly, in print, over those 
pangs of sea-sickness that were so irksome, in fact ! I 
shall not follow their example further than to state that 
I spent the two following days under the aforenamed 
blankets, testing the virtues of various remedies for mal 
de mer, provided by kind and credulous friends; and 
that I left a goodly collection of half-emptied phials on 
the shelf of my berth, for the behoof of any future 
occupant disposed to try such experiments. May he 
find the study more pleasing and profitable than I did ! 

During the third night out, there was a rapid 
increase of temperature ; and the morning was like a 
morning in mid-June. Through my narrow window I 
beheld a cloudless sky, a golden shimmer of sunshine, a 
sea blue and tranquil as an inland lake. The stateroom 
grew insufferably hot and stuffy ; I was fain to take a 
pillow and drag myself to the upper deck, which was 
roofed with an awning, furnished with chairs, and so 
transformed into a kind of sky-parlor. Here were 
grouped many of the passengers, — the ladies enjoying 



14 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

chat, books, and fancy-work, the gentlemen, political 
discussions and cigars ; with here and there a pale and 
spiritless individual, like myself, caring to do nothing 
but gaze at sea and sky and far-off glimpses of shore. 

Nearly all day, we were in sight of the Florida 
coast, studded with islands, and broken by such deep 
indentations that, at times, it seemed to be coming out 
to meet us, showing distinctly a low sweep of sand- 
beach, and a thick fringe of evergreen oaks ; and anon 
receding to only a faint line in the distance. The 
rising of clouds from the ocean is a singular and inter- 
esting sight ; they seem both nearer and denser than on 
land. I watched a number of dark cloud-peaks come 
slowly into view, solid enough, in aj>pearance, to deceive 
one into the belief that they belonged to a veritable 
mountain range, — only that, after a little, they broke, 
scattered, and vanished, in unmistakable cloud fashion. 

After a time, I fell into conversation with some of my 
fellow-passengers, and was amazed to learn what an 
amount of gossip was current among them, — yes, posi- 
tively, gossip ! — on a steamer only three days out, with 
a crowd of passengers gathered from the four quarters 
of the globe, not a dozen of whom had ever met before, 
or would ever meet again! The histories of one 
deserted wife, and one heart-broken one, of a runaway 
couple, a defaulter fleeing from justice, a Mexican 
Croesus, a bewitching flirt, et csetera, et caetera, were 
told me with a clearness of outline and a breadth of 
color that defied criticism. I listened and marvelled, 
admiring the ingenuity that had invented all these con- 



THE VOYAGE. 15 

current details, or the detective skill that had wormed 
them out. It might be that the talent was here running 
to waste ! 

At sunset, there was a lavish outpouring of brilliant 
color, and some wonderful sky-scenery. At early dusk 
we made the southernmost Florida light, and then 
quickly left it behind. At the rising of the moon, 
we looked out over an unbroken extent of shining, 
murmuring semi-tropical sea. I say semi, to be geo- 
graphically correct, the Tropic of Cancer not yet being 
passed. But for artistic and atmospheric accuracy the 
qualification is not needed. 

Xow, finally, it was necessary to face the horrors of 
my stateroom. Like many anticipated evils, they shrank 
to nothingness in the reality. The demon of sea-sick- 
ness had flown. Over the moonlit ocean, I sailed softly 
into Dreamland. 

One more day of smooth gliding through balmiest 
sunshine and gentlest trade- winds, of quiet enjoyment 
of pleasant ocean pictures and curious contrasts of faces, 
characters, and languages ; of growing strength and 
spirits; of eating and drinking, chatting, gossiping, 
musing, and yawning; — one more night of moonlight 
splendor and peace ; — and the voyage was over. 



CHAPTER ni. 

THE LANDING AND HOTEL. 

/^"\NXY four days and a half from New York to 
Havana! — that is to say, from snow to verdure, 
from frost to flowers, from bare, gray boughs to cluster- 
ing fruits, from winter to summer ! There is a touch of 
enchantment — of Aladdin's lamp and the Emir's carpet 
— about it ! 

The first land made by south -going steamers is the 
Monte del Pan, or Bread Mountain, of Matanzas ; which 
we saw with the earliest sunbeams on its top. There- 
after, we skirted the Cuban coast for two or three hours, 
near enough to see that the island's surface was green 
and undulating, on the ocean, and that it rose into moun- 
tain and table-land, in the interior. By and by, palms 
and other forms of tropical vegetation were dimly dis- 
tinguishable. Thereupon the whole land became picture 
and poem, and I slid into delicious reverie, and took but 
vague note of time or scene, till roused by the report 
of a gun to see that Havana was full in view. 

To the left, was the far-famed Morro Castle, with 
little of the grimness of a fortress about it, but much of 
the dreamy and delicate beauty of an enchanted palace. 



THE LANDING AND HOTEL. 17 

So it seemed to me, at least ; but I suspect that I saw 
everything couleur-de-rose, at that moment. Its walls of 
a light golden brown, seemed to grow out of, rather 
than to be built upon, a ridge of rocks curiously worn 
and seamed by the action of the water; from the 
midst of which rose a single, lofty, slender tower, with 
a graceful balcony and beacon at top ; the whole looking 
so slight and aerial, in the shimmering sunshine, that I 
should scarcely have marvelled to see it melt slowly, and 
vanish in thin wreaths of mist. That this fair vision 
had teeth was made plain, however, by a long line of 
embrasures for cannon; nor did the sharp hail of a 
sentry from its walls, demanding the steamer's name 
and. port of departure, sound wholly amiable. The 
position of the castle gives it entire control of the 
entrance to the harbor, which is a kind of channel, 
scarcely more than three hundred yards wide, and 
about a thousand long. On the point opposite the 
Morro, is a smaller, older, and less striking fortification, 
known as "El Castillo de la Punta," built in 1589, by 
Philip II. ; in the rear of which are seen the white walls 
of the city prison. Back from the Punta, in either direc- 
tion, stretches the city ; the old, historic portion, with 
its grim walls and bastions, following the channel and 
the bay, while the new part, with long lines of green 
trees marking the course of its pleasant paseos, extends 
along the ocean. 

Passing between the Morro and the Punta, and 
entering the channel, we came in sight of the " Caba- 
nas," a huge, strong fort behind the Morro, commanding 



18 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

both that and the city, as well as the greater part of 
the bay. It is built of the same stone that forms the 
steep bluff on which it stands, and so difficult is it to 
discover the exact line where rock and masonry meet 
that one is almost driven to conclude that its walls and 
bastions are the result of some strange freak of nature. 
Soon the channel widened into the open harbor — an 
irregular sheet of water, in shape somewhat resembling 
a trefoil, and not far from three miles long, but consider- 
ably less than half as wide. Very beautiful it looked 
from our steamer's deck, set in the midst of low green 
hills, gilded by the morning sun, and with a multitude 
of ships of all nations lying on its bosom and reflected — « 
every hulk, every spar, every rope — in its still depths. 
Some of these reflections were broken into waverinir, 
indistinct fragments as we steamed past and, turning to 
the right, dropped anchor about half a mile from the 
custom house, to await the coming of the Health Officer, 
before whose visit nobody could be permitted to leave 
the vessel or to come on board. It was out of the kindest 
consideration, doubtless, that this official kept us waiting 
for an hour or two. It gave us time to observe the odd 
architecture and colors of Havana, and to make our- 
selves familiar with the relative positions of harbor, 
fortifications, city, and suburbs — knowledge that would 
be of service by and by ; also, to realize that our weary 
souls had arrived off a land where life was not lived in 
a perpetual hurry, nor a whole people bent on getting 
ahead of time, being once fully persuaded of which, we 
should be better fitted for life on its shores. 



THE LANDING AND HOTEL. 19 

For further pastime, we could watch the movements 
of a fleet of small, awning-covered boats, by which the 
steamer was surrounded immediately on casting anchor. 
The swarthy boatmen in charge thereof demeaned them- 
selves much like a crowd of New York hackmen, 
shouting, swearing, crowding, and trying to bargain 
with such of the passengers as were within hail, for the 
debarkation of themselves and luggage. Some of them, 
too, held up great bunches of bananas and other fruits 
for sale. 

At last, Mr. Health Officer appeared, inspected the 
ship's papers and condition, pronounced " all right," and 
lifted his hat politely to captain and passengers as he 
went over the side ; whereupon, the decks of the steamer 
immediately swarmed with a crowd of boatmen, huck- 
sters, idlers, and expectant friends, comparable only 
to the miraculous gathering of the locusts in Egypt. 
Amid this vociferous crowd, my friend Juan's smiling 
face soon beamed out like a veritable beacon-light to 
one sailing on unknown waters ; and a few moments 
later, I found myself in one of the afore-mentioned boats, 
being rowed toward the custom house landing. It is 
impossible to describe the exceeding charm of that 
moment ! Glad to escape from the confinement and 
discomforts of the steamer, interested by the novelty 
and beauty of the scene, lulled by the soft gliding mo- 
tion of the boat and the musical plashing of the oars, 
and refreshed by the cool breeze which just rippled the 
surface of the sparkling water, I thought that the very 
essence of enjoyment had been distilled for my tasting ! 



20 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

After snow-banks and frost-rime, brown, bare boughs, 
and winds straight from polar ice-fields, these green 
banks ! these waving palms ! these caressing breezes ! I 
felt as if I had landed in another planet ! 

At the custom house, there was another delay of 
half-an-hour, ere my trunks took their turn at being 
examined — not a formidable operation, when the keys 
are readily and good-humoredly produced. A courteous 
official, in a light and becoming uniform of linen, thrust 
a remarkably white hand down a corner of each of my 
trunks, without anywise displacing the contents ; and 
immediately signified, by a polite bow and gesture, that 
his business with them was over. 

From the custom house I stepped into what I 
thought the oddest vehicle conceivable, until the sight 
of a " volante," thereafter, convicted me of a mistake. 
This affair was in size and shape much like one of our 
barouches, but mounted on two wheels only, with shafts 
of an absurd length ; at the farther extremity of which, 
with much superfluous expenditure of leather and metal, 
was harnessed a little, stout pony, who shook his square 
head, and trotted off with the clumsy vehicle as if it 
were the easiest thing in the world. Indeed, I am fast 
verging to the opinion that a native Cuban horse is the 
strongest, toughest specimen of the equine race that 
trots on the face of the globe. I have little to say for 
his beauty, however. 

I was unprepared to find Havana so thoroughly Ori- 
ental — perhaps I should say, Moorish — in its' aspect. 
The same narrow streets, roofed with awnings — the 



THE LANDING AND HOTEL. 21 

same one-storied houses, built around a court — the same 
shallow shops, on a level with the pavement, and all 
open in front, exposing their entire contents to view — 
the same long files of cumbrously laden mules, tied 
together, and with a gayly-dressed muleteer in charge 
— and the same bright-turbaned, stately-stepping ne- 
gresses, with heavy burdens poised on their heads. 
Many of the cross streets are so narrow that only a 
single vehicle can pass through, and it becomes a matter 
of wonderment how awkward meetings and hindrances 
are avoided. The pavements, too, are only designed for 
the accommodation of one foot-passenger. Parties must 
go in single file; while passing is accomplished by a 
turning sideways, and a nice calculation of distances 
and adjustment of angles ; unless, as is most usual, one 
of the parties prefers to step down into the street. 

Arrived at the " Hotel del Telegrafo," I was con- 
ducted to my room by so circuitous a route, that I 
begged Juan to come for me at the dinner-hour, much 
doubting my ability to find my way out of the laby- 
rinth. First up stairs, then down — then across a court — 
then up again — then through somebody's private parlor 
— then across a portion of the roof — and so on, until I 
grew confused, and gave up trying to take any " bear- 
ings." At length, I reached a room, opening on a 
court, threw myself into a rocking chair, and looked 
around me with some curiosity as to what my first 
lodging in Cuba might be. 

Certainly, it had the merit of novelty ! A doorway, 
lofty and ample enough to admit a coach and six ; two 



22 MY WIHTJSK IN CUBA. 

doors, sufficiently heavy to stand a siege, and with such 
an accumulation of odd and uncouth bolts and hasps 
and padlocks as would have been unpleasantly sug- 
gestive of midnight assault, if the thick coat of rust 
thereon had not saved them from any suspicion of 
ever being used. Two windows, one so high that I was 
forced to climb upon a chair to look out ; both iron-grated, 
like a prison, and with heavy, wooden, inside shutters, 
into one of which was inserted a single pane of glass, for 
the admission of light on rainy days, probably, — from 
which, heaven preserve us ! A lofty ceiling of huge 
beams and boards, painted blue, by way of pleasant 
contrast with the deep green of the window frames and 
the red and yellow tiles of the floor! Carpet? Xo, 
friend ; carpets are almost unknown in Cuba. I have 
seen one, about the size of a table-cloth, spread in the 
middle of the floor of the salon, on state occasions ; but 
neither carpets nor matting are in common use, and 
would only be hiding-places for vermin, if they were. 

By way of furniture, my room owned a dressing- 
table and chairs of unmistakably Yankee origin; but 
there, all familiar forms ceased. The bedstead was of 
iron, narrow and high, with ample provision of lace- 
edged mosquito-netting, indicative of unpleasant noc- 
turnal visitants. Upon examination, it proved to be 
destitute of either mattress or bed, nothing in the world 
to sleep on except a sacking bottom, with a sheet 
spread over! This is the universal custom of the 
Cubans ; they hold it to be more comfortable, in their 
climate, than anything softer. I do not quarrel with 



THE LANDING AND HOTEL. .23 

the theory, but I am bound to say that I found 
it extremely hard to conform to the practice. A 
pair of pillows stuffed with moss, not much harder 
than a log, and a perfect nightmare of a flowered coun- 
terpane, completed the bed-furniture. Add to the above, 
a pair of large water-jars, of Pompeian pattern, a queer 
carved centre-table, of Venetian pattern, a wash-stand 
absolutely sid generis^ and a row of brass hooks, and 
you have my room and its furnishings complete. Never- 
theless, it was golden with sunshine, and fresh with 
breeze, and had a foreign flavor about it very pleasing 
to a traveller. 

. At four o'clock, Juan came with an invitsrtion to dine 
with certain American friends of his, recent arrivals at 
the hotel. After the usual number of twistings and turn- 
ings, ascents and descents, we reached their pleasant 
parlor, and I was welcomed as cordially as if I had 
always been known to them. " All Americans are friends 

in a foreign country," said Mrs. R ; and I was quite 

ready to accept the doctrine, as my new acquaintances 
were cultured and agreeable, and a seat at their table 
much more to my taste than one in the public dining- 
room. Nor was it too retired, as you will divine, 
when you are informed, that a private parlor in the 
" Hotel del Telegrafo," means nothing more nor less than 
a sort of hall or ante-chamber, surrounded by bedrooms 
whose doors open upon it, and whose occupants must 
needs be constantly passing in and out. The present 
specimen was large and lofty, furnished with American 
rockers and large antique vases, and floored with 



24 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

marble, in alternate blocks of black and white. At one 
end was the wide doorway, opening upon a portion of 
the roof, by which we had gained admittance ; at the 
other, a broad, balconied window overlooking the mili- 
tary parade ground, known as " El Campo de Marte," 
and giving an almost unlimited view of the quaint, tiled 
roofs of the city, — the hotels being among the very few 
buildings that can boast of more than one story. 

The dinner was really good and well-served, although 
the dishes were mostly new acquaintances, or so dis- 
guised by strange sauces and modes of cookery as to defy 
recognition. " Will you take some of this queer-looking 
compound r^" questioned my hostess, as each dish ma£e 
its appearance ; " I haven't the slightest idea what it is, 
nor if it is good, — you must taste and see, as we do ! " 
In general, the tasting was not disagreeable, though now 
and then, it resulted in irrepressibly wry faces ; which, 
however, only added to the mirth of the party. The 
attendant showed a most unusual and praiseworthy 
readiness to supply whatever was desired. On one 
occasion, being asked, if " chicken " formed any part of 
our bill of fare, he replied, " No, but I will make one ! " 
which soon appeared, in verification of the statement, 
and did credit to his powers of creation, being in no 
wise inferior to the article produced in ordinary process 
of hatching and growth. 

And such fruits as came on for dessert ! Oranges, of 
which only the most remote of kin ever enters the United 
States ; bananas that seem to repeat to the taste all that 
a su mm er sunset gives to the eye ; and melaos, unfa- 



THE LANDING AND HOTEL. 25 

miliar to you by name, but which you can conceive of 
as a sort of sweet, rose-colored cream, eaten with a 
spoon from a thick, brown rind or skin, about the size 
of a musk-melon, but of a more oblong shape. Un- 
happy dwellers in a frozen clime, what would you not 
give for a share in such luxuries as these ! 

Afterward, there was a visit to the roof, to watch 
the large, tropical moon sailing gloriously through the 
heavens; mellowing into soft lines and harmonious 
tints the angular forms and incongruous colors of the 
city, and touching the distant harbor with a shimmer 
of silver light. Here, I saw plainly what I had before 
suspected, that the hotel was an odd jumble of build- 
ings of different heights and ages, connected together 
by a new and imposing front ; and my after wanderings 
through its mazes, the utter confusion of mind that 
seized upon me whenever I lost sight of my own door, 
the odd mistakes that I made, the awkward intrusions 
of which I was guilty, would form an amusing and vo- 
luminous chapter of my Cuban experiences. Seldom 
did I reach my destination without stirring up some 
lazy mozo from a stolen nap in a dusky corner, and 
putting myself under his guidance. 

Yet, notwithstanding this and other drawbacks, the 
" Hotel del Telegrafo " is the best of the Spanish hotels, 
in Havana. And who would go thither to stop at an 
" American Hotel ? " Are there not enough of them 
and to spare, at home ! 



CHAPTER IV. 

AT THE EETEETA. 

A SORT of open air concert is given, every evening, 
from eight to nine o'clock, by the Government of 
Havana, in two of the public squares of the city, the 
music being furnished by the regimental bands. This 
is called the " retreta" and thither flock foreigners and 
natives, in crowds. The former behold there many 
striking features of Cuban life, and to the latter it is 
the place where friends meet, and lovers woo, and 
flirtations go on, and toilets are displayed, — the music 
seeming to be only a secondary consideration. To the 
retreta, therefore, went our small party of four, — which, 
nevertheless, represented three nationalities, Spain, Eng- 
land, and the United States, — in a large barouche, such 
vehicles being kept on hire, for the convenience of 
parties ; the native volante admitting of but two — or at 
most, three — occupants. 

The plaza was crowded when we arrived, the music 
already begun, and the volantes standing in double and 
triple rows all around the enclosure. In these odd 
equipages sat the dark : eyed Cubanas y in that minimum 
of attire which " Society " absurdly terms " full dress." 
Their coiffures were elaborate, but, as far as I could see, 



AT THE RETRETA. 27 

they were without bonnet, veil, shawl, or any wrap what- 
soever. I looked eagerly for 'the black lace mantilla, 
always a graceful and indispensable accessory to the 
ideal picture of Spanish beauty, drawn from books, and 
hung in a sunny corner of Memory's gallery ; but I am 
told it is now discarded, except for wearing to Mass on 
Sundays. The full, flowing skir1$ of these ladies were 
spread carefully out at each side of the volante, hanging 
nearly to the ground, and giving to the vehicle, when 
viewed from the rear, the appearance of being furnished 
with wings. This is the prevailing style; no Cuban 
lady thinks it necessary or expedient to tuck her skirts 
into her carriage. Such an arrangement would not 
sufficiently display their length and showy trimmings ; 
and her opportunities for exhibiting them elsewhere are 
extremely limited. The practice is not so utterly ruinous 
as it would seem, the wheels of the vehicle being: so far 
in the rear as to preclude any danger of contact. 

But the volantes themselves — or the quitrins, as the 
more modern and stylish variety is called — attracted my 
attention at first even more than their occupants. I 
wished that one could be transferred bodily — horses, 
harness, postilion, inmates, and all — to the Central 
Park, some fine day. Not Cleopatra's chariot, with the 
beautiful Egyptian Queen therein, would create a greater 
sensation. 

Fancy a pair of enormous wheels, not less than six 
feet in diameter, with an axle of corresponding size, to 
which is fastened a pair of long, curved shafts ; — add to 
these a phaeton-shaped body, whereof top and dash- 



28 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

.JH 

board nearly meet, hung entirely forward of the wheels 
and between the shafts, by leathern straps depending 
from the axle behind and a cross-bar in front ; — harness 
a single horse into these shafts, not less than three or 
four feet from the dashboard, and using as much leather 
and plate as possible in the process ; — put a heavy saddle 
on his back, to enable him to support the cumbrous 
structure, which the much burdened animal is also ex- 
pected to draw; — fasten another horse to the whiffle- 
tree, at the left side, by a pair of traces long enough to 
allow him to keep about half his length in advance of 
the other; — on this latter mount a negro "calesero," 
with richly-laced and bright-colored jacket, broad laced 
" sombrero," enormous jack-boots reaching nearly to the 
hips, large silver-plated spurs, and heavy leathern whip, 
whose duty it is to lead the working horse by a short 
rein, shout at him vociferously, crack his whip at him 
with a report like a small pistol, and thrash him unmer- 
cifully whenever he slackens his trot ; — imagine postil- 
ion, horse, harness, and vehicle to be glistening with 
gold lace or silver plate, and between shouting, jingling, 
creaking, and rattling, making more noise than a half- 
dozen of our carriages ; — and then you may have some 
faint conception of a Cuban volante ! But the thing 
must be seen to be duly appreciated. It is an unique 
article of its kind, striking the unaccustomed gaze even 
more oddly than a French diligence or an Irish jaunting- 
car, yet possessing a certain barbaric splendor, and a 
graceful, easy, swinging motion, to which those vehicles 
have no claim. 



AT THE RETRETA. 29 

I have omitted one small, but ludicrous detail. The 
long tails of both horses are tightly braided, and tied to 
the harness or the saddle with bright-colored cords or 
ribbons, in such wise as to prevent any movement of 
those useful members. I am at a loss for the reason, 
since the arrangement gives an absurdly rat-like look to 
the small native pony ; and in a climate where gnats and 
mosquitos do so abound, it seems a positive cruelty. 

Ordinarily, neither volante nor quitrin has more than 
one seat and two occupants ; but a third seat, called la 
nina bonita (the pretty child), is sometimes attached to 
the other, whereon, slightly in advance, sits the youngest 
of a dazzling party of three. Thus enthroned, and 
with the top of the volante flung back, the fair Cubanas 
sit out the retreta, flirting their fans, and acknowledging 
the bows and salutations of passing acquaintances ; but 
never, for one moment touching their dainty satin slip- 
pers to the pavement, or seeming to care to do so. But 
we, being forasteros, privileged to " do in Rome as the 
Romans do not" alighted from our carriage, made our 
way through the masculine crowd in the square, hired 
chairs from an enormous pile, fearfully and wonderfully 
reared on a negro's back, and established ourselves at 
the foot of the statue of " Isabel la Catolica" in a posi- 
tion favorable for the hearing of the music. Here, I 
contrived to squeeze myself into a space between the 
base of the statue and the nearest bench, leaving Miss 
R. to take the brunt of the staring consequent upon our 
unusual procedure; where I was able to listen undis- 
turbed to the concord of sweet sounds, study the statue 



30 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

above and the faces around by the soft transfiguring 
moonlight, inhale rich wafts of fragrance from neighbor- 
ing orange and lemon trees, and try to realize that only 
five days ago I looked upon a scene where "Winter 
reigned supreme. Harder still was it to realize the 
transition from the four walls of an invalid's chamber, 
where existence dragged wearily between couch and 
easy-chair, and no moment was free from pain, to this 
brilliant out-door scene, with nothing between me and 
the stars, and, save some slight remnant of weakness, 
the serenest sense of physical well-being. Life had 

" Suffered a sea-change 
Into something rich and strange." 

The music consisted chiefly of selections from favorite 
operas, and was exquisitely rendered. It ended with a 
" Quickstep," to the lively measure of which the band 
marched off, followed by the crowd ; such part of it as 
did not resort forthwith to the " Cafe Dominica," to 
enjoy ices, or cooling drinks known as refrescos. Thither 
went we, — not to enter, however, though foreign ladies 
may do it when accompanied by gentlemen, and pre- 
pared to endure any amount of eyeshot. But the moon- 
light was far too lovely to leave outside ; so we summoned 
a waiter, and were served, Cuban fashion, in our carriage. 
The ices, flavored with a fruit called guanabana, were 
delicious ; and we ate them by the help of certain deli- 
cate tubes of sweet paste, known as barquillos, experi- 
encing the novel sensation of devouring our spoons and 
our ices simultaneously, and leaving not a vestige of 
either behind ! 



AT THE RETRETA. 31 

So we chatted and ate, under the magical radiance 
of the tropical moon, with a soft, india-ink view of the 
plaza in the distance, and in our ears the ever fainter 
and fainter harmonies of the receding hand. And thus 
ended my first day in Cuba — a day crowded with new 
scenes and sensations, a day whereof the greenness and 
goldenness, the novelty and quaintness, the grace and 
the grotesqueness, will be a joy forever! 

But after the day, the night cometh ! And of my 
first night in Cuba, the chronicle runneth briefly thus : — 

On returning from the retreta, I summoned the 
chambermaid, or man (for the post was filled by a 
handsome Cuban youth of eighteen or twenty), and 
asked for a mattress, — having been informed that the 
article was sometimes supplied to foreign demand. 
Whereupon, he presently brought in a dingy affair, not 
more than two feet wide and two inches thick, which he 
threw upon the middle of the bedstead and proceeded 
to unroll with a grand, this-is-precisely-what-you-want 
air, — when, lo ! a sudden glancing and scampering of 
innumerable cockroaches ! 

" Caramba!" said he, with a decided change of 
countenance. 

"Que hueste invencible I '" exclaimed I, beating a 
quick retreat. 

The dark legions vanished in the twinkling of an 
eye, however,- as is their amiable habit when suddenly 
brought to light, and my onozo's discomfiture went with 
them. Pouring out a voluble and confident assurance 
that they had all retreated to the crevices of the walls 



32 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

and would appear no more, he quickly made the bed, 
bade me a courteous " JBuenas noches" and withdrew. 

I cannot speak enthusiastically of my night's rest 
upon that mattress. It was as hard as the Irishman's 
three feathers, it had an odor strongly suggestive of 
stables, and the fleas did not decamp with the cock- 
roaches ! 

Besides, there were the serenos — not a species of 
vermin, but a peculiarly Cuban species of watchmen. 
Seeing one for the first time, you think he has walked 
out of the Middle Ages to meet you. He is habited in 
a queer, gown-like coat ; he has a clumsy pistol stuck in 
his belt ; and he carries a long pike, a whistle, a lantern, 
and a rope. It is his business to cry the time and the 
state of the weather every half-hour during the night ; 
prefacing the cry with a vigorous knocking of his pike- 
staff- on the pavement. As the nights are almost inva- 
riably clear and fine, his usual cry is " sereno" from 
whence he derives his name. To the eye, he is a suffi- 
ciently picturesque institution ; to the ear, an execrable 
one. Not more effectually did Macbeth " murder sleep " 
than he does, until one becomes accustomed to his noc- 
turnal din. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE PALACE AND PLAZA. 

rpEN" o'clock is the breakfast-hour for all Cuba, at least, 
for that portion of it which does not belong to the 
"hewers of wood and drawers of water;" and at that 
hour I was again enjoying Mrs. R.'s cordial hospitality, 
and drinking the very best cup of coffee that ever I 
tasted. Whoever desires to enjoy that beverage in 
perfection, may be very sure of doing so in Cuba, if 
he puts himself under wise guidance. But the tea is 
only fit to fling after the German diplomatist's salad, 
" out of a very wide open window ! " It is a comfort to 
be assured that no one drinks it " unless he is sick." 

The day was devoted to sight-seeing. First, we took 
a look at the Palace of the Captain General, which I re- 
garded with some interest, knowing it to be the centre 
of a system of military despotism; which, although 
somewhat lighter than formerly, has still certain feat- 
ures calculated to rouse the indignation, or secure the 
contempt, of any free-born American. For was not 
I — Z, the most harmless and insignificant little woman 
in the world! — obliged, to procure a certain six-by- 
eight, dingy, ill-printed paper, called a " permit," before I 
was allowed to stir in Cuba ; which seemed far less worth 
2* 



34 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

the eight dollars paid for it, than the wildest auction 
purchase, or " damaged-goods " bargain, in which I ever 
indulged ! The face of this precious document declares 
to all whom it may concern that, — 

"THE GOVERNOR OF THIS JURISDICTION 
Grants a ticket of disembarkation in favor of Dona W. M. L. 
Jay, a native of the United States, of no profession ; who arrived 
at Havana in the Steamer Eagle," etc. etc. 

On the left, in a square, are the "particular signs," 
by which the said "Dona" may be identified; the 
blanks calling for a description of height, age, com- 
plexion, hair, eyebrows, forehead, eyes, nose, mouth, 
and beard (/) ; but as only the items of age and height 
are filled out, the permit might serve as well for half 
the foreign females in the Island ; showing conclusively 
that its true object is a species of legalized plunder. 
Then follow the signature of the Chief of Police, with a 
facsimile of that of the Governor, and the seals proper 
to each. Underneath are the following " notices " : 

" The present document shall be null and void whenever it 
loses the seal or crest of the Government here affixed. 

" Foreigners should notice particularly the third paragraph of 
the regulations to be found on the back." 

Turning to the back, therefore, we find a number of 

1 
petty rules, printed in French, Spanish, and English, 

some few of which I copy from the English column, 

verbatim, et literatim, et punctuatim. 



THE PALACE AND PLAZA. 35 



WARNING. 



" This permit must be presented to obtain the baggages, which 
can be landed every day, Sundays & holidays included, from sun- 
sete till sunrise provided the consignee of the vessel has obtained 
the necessary permit from the collector. 

"This permit must likewise be presented to owners of the 
house or establishment where the passenger goes to stop, so that 
he may give the necessary advice to the police. 

" This permit will enable newly arrived foreigners to transit 
in all directions during one month from its date. It will also 
enable to fixe residence in every place in the Island : according 
to it, its presentation is always necessary before the Capitan de 
partido, Gomisario 6 Celador respective. After that period a pase 
de trdnsito is required to travel over the Island. 

" The want of the compliance to these regulations implicates a 
fine of ten dollars. 

" No passenger will be allowed to enter the city without sub- 
jecting to these requisites, and will be obliged to justify its fulfil- 
ment, by presenting the permit and the mark or sign which the 
Custom house agents put to the respective packages after in- 
spection. 

u No foreigner is allowed to reside more than three months in 
the Island without procuring a carta dejlomicilio, which he will 
obtain by a petition backed by the Consul dfxhis nation." 

Even long residents of Cuba, born in Old Spain, are 
not exempted from these restrictions. Each year they 
are obliged to procure the aforementioned " ca^ta de 
domicilio ,'^which they are liable to be called upc^n to 
show at any railway, or police-station, or even at their 
houses; and any infraction of the rule is punishable 
with a fine. 

With this document in my pocket, in token of the 



36 MY WINTER IN CUBA, 

extreme solicitude which the Spanish Government feels 
for its guests, I examined the Vice Roylil Palace on a 
certain footing of equality, conscious of having duly paid 
eight dollars for its support, and bought the privilege of 
saying and thinking what I pleased about it. I soon de- 
cided that it had but a moderate claim to architectural 
grandeur or beauty. It fronts on the " Plaza de Armas," 
is built of a yellowish-colored stone, in the form of a 
hollow square, and is two stories in height, of which 
the upper one only is the residence of the Captain Gen- 
eral. This projects far over the lower one, and is sup- 
ported by a row of stone pillars, making a pleasant 
colonnade along the front. The ground floor is devoted 
to various public offices. An arched way leads into a 
patio, or court, upon which open the interior windows. 
On either side of the principal entrance is a guard- 
room; and across the colonnade, from door-posts to 
pillars, two sentinels are marching stolidly all day, and 
doubtless, all night. At least, I see no reason why they 
should not keep up the same monotonous, indolent per- 
formance throughout the night, and sleep like dormouses 
at the same time. 

The " Plaza de Armas " is very handsomely laid out 
with walks, and ornamented with shrubbery, a few palm 
and cocoa trees, and a statue of one of the numerous 
Ferdinands, — whose images adorn, or disfigure (accord- 
ing to taste), nearly every plaza and paseo in the Island. 
The enclosure is surrounded by a thick row of extremely 
old and luxuriant laureles de India, a species of banyan 
tree ; whose dark, glossy foliage is so close as to seem 



THE PALACE AND PLAZA. 37 

almost solid, and furnishes the densest shade to be 
found in all Cuba. It affords shelter to numerous 
bright-plumaged birds, whose name I forget, but the 
story of whose introduction into the Island found a 
firmer lodgment in my memory. They were brought 
hither by a sailor from Spain, in the days when Havana 
was a walled city, at whose gates all comers were 
stopped, and cross-questioned, and when custom-house 
regulations were even more strict than now. The old, 
weather-beaten "salt" was desired to pay an exorbitant 
duty on his pets. After some altercation, irate and 
rebellious, he opened the cage-door, saying, " They shall 
enter, and they shall not pay duty." The birds immedi- 
ately flew over the walls to the nearest trees, where 
they settled, made themselves at home, increased and 
multiplied, and have sent out colonies into all parts of 
the Island. And still the traveller sees their bright 
wings glancing in and out amid the thick boughs of the 
old laurels, while he listens to this story of their natural- 
ization, told by some grave, courteous Don ; and takes 
their cheery warblings for a confirmation of the tale, 
or a sarcastic comment thereon, according to tempera- 
ment. 

These ancient laurel-trees are the pride of the " Hab- 
anero," but no tree will so charm a stranger's gaze, or 
win such a place in his affections, as the palma real, or 
royal palm. The straight, smooth, slender trunk shoots 
up some fifty feet, or more, into the air, with the perfect 
finish and lofty aspiration of a Corinthian column ; and 
then crowns itself with a spreading cluster of graceful, 



38 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

plumy leaves, whose deep, vivid green shines like satin 
in the sunlight. These look so delicate and feathery at 
their dizzy height that I marvelled, when I had oppor- 
tunity to examine one fallen to the ground, to find it ten 
or twelve feet in length, with a stem much thicker than 
my arm ; while those apparently tender, tapering rays 
of green, of which it is composed, seemed like sword- 
blades in my hand. This discovery increased my respect 
without lessening my admiration. Indeed, whether seen 
in stately colonnades and long avenues, or standing 
singly or in groups on the plain, the palm-tree grows 
constantly in my esteem, and I am ready to render it 
my deepest homage as the King of trees. And what 
wealth of association gathers around its name ! What 
troops of images, sacred, historic, poetical, throng on 
the mind with every bend of its kingly crest, with every 
whisper of its rustling plumes ! Soft, faint echoes of gray, 
quaint fable and purple Eastern poesy, — visions of wide 
reaches of sandy desert — slow, winding marches of 
stately caravans — bright oases by crystal fountains — 
mazy dances of flushed Almes — mystic rites of wild 
dervishes — grand, silent ruins and dethroned statues — 
holy labors and sorrows of apostle and martyr — the 
calm, sad, benignant face of the Son of Man going 
about Jerusalem or to and fro across the hills of Gali- 
lee, — these, all, drenched my soul, and left me breath- 
less and awe-struck before the majestic marvel! Like 
Dana, " I was glad that they had strewn palm-leaves in 
the path of the Saviour, — I was glad that the saint3 in 
Heaven carry palm-leaves in their hands ! " 



CHAPTER VI* 

WITHIN AND WITHOUT THE WALLS. 

(~*i OIN"G up Obispo street from the Plaza de Armas, 
we were confronted with one of Havana's most 
noticeable and interesting features — the remaining por- 
tion of the old city wall, with the gateways and bastions 
thereto pertaining. This ancient barrier overtops the 
nearest houses, and is solidly built of hewn stone, 
about twenty feet thick at bottom, with a smooth per- 
pendicular face, but with two or three terrace-like 
projections on the inner side, whereon troops were 
originally stationed for its defence. Outside there is, or 
was, a moat, now dry, and filled as full of weeds and 
creepers as it formerly was of water. 

It is a novel experience to find these grim, hoary 
relics , of bygone days and modes of life bursting up 
through the quiet, prosaic flow of our modern existence ; 
and a single sight of them gives vastly greater vivid- 
ness to our mental pictures of that ancient time, than is 
attainable by the closest study of books and pictures. 
The man who might read Cervantes or look on the 
masterpieces of Velasquez without once feeling his 
fancy stirred, or his imagination quickened, would find 
these gray towers bristling even more with quaint 



40 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

suggestions than ever they did with guns ; and as many 
flowers of fancy and creeping, ramifying lines of 
thought, would start forth from the time-worn, weather- 
stained surface of the old wall, as there are blooming 
plants rooted in its corners and projections, and vines 
climbing and tangling along its sides. However, this 
curious relic is even now in . process of removal, as an 
useless cumberer of the ground ; the town having long 
ago overleaped it and spread itself over the adjacent 
country to an extent exceeding its former area. But it 
will be years ere the venerable landmark disappears 
from the city vocabulary ; the terms estramuros and 
entremuros being still in constant use, even where no 
vestige of the wall remains, to denote that boundary 
line between the historic and the modern city which it 
once defined so clearly. And it seems a pity to demol- 
ish it altogether. One of the gateways, at least, should 
be spared, to help us to realize an age and a manner of 
life otherwise very dim and unreal to our modern vision. 
Looking up at this gray wall, or standing under the 
gateway's frowning arch, one sighs to see how notably 
the picturesque has dropped out of the onward march 
of invention. Utility leads the way, comfort and con- 
venience swell the ranks, and the spirit of beauty is 
not altogether absent ; but the sweet, coy, vagrant 
charm of the picturesque seems left behind. Let him 
who thinks otherwise, confront a modern cooking-stove 
with an ancient fire-place, or a silver ice-pitcher with the 
earthen water-jars in my Cuban bed-chamber, or set 
down his newly-built villa (" with all the modern conven- 



WITHIN AND WITHOUT THE WALLS. 41 

iences") by the side of this time-incrusted gateway, 
and see which has the best of it artistically — of which 
he would choose to make a picture for his parlor wall. 

Our next visit — for we were " doing " Havana thor- 
oughly, though not systematically — was to " La Hon- 
radez," otherwise "Honesty," otherwise an immense 
cigarette manufactory. This institution is in such 
favor with foreigners that one day in each week is set 
apart for their reception and entertainment ; when the 
whole establishment puts on a gala-day air, and gentle- 
manly ushers, speaking English, French, and German, 
are in waiting to attend upon its guests. Having en- 
tered our names in the register (which would turn an 
autograph collector yellow with envy), we proceeded to 
the inspection of the building. It consists of several 
departments, with telegraphic connections, that no time 
may be wasted in running to and fro. Chief among 
them are the offices and counting-rooms, — the carpen- 
ter's shop, for the construction of packing boxes and 
barrels, — the machine room, with cutting and pressing 
•machines, — the printing office, printing daily millions 
of labels, circulars, fancy- wrappers, etc., — the designing, 
engraving, and lithographic room, — and, what is most 
interesting of all, the vast room where the Chinese 
workmen twist up those little rolls of paper and scented 
tobacco with an ease and celerity that seems little short 
of miraculous; producing an average of over two 
millions of cigarettes per day. The courtesy of the 
attendants is a most pleasing feature to a visitor ; every- 
thing is shown and explained with the most minute, 



42 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

unflagging attention and politeness ; and if a lady guest 
expresses any admiration for the pretty boxes or fancy 
pictures scattered about, she is immediately prayed to 
accept of such as she most fancies. Finally, when the 
hour of leave-taking arrives, each visitor is presented 
with a package of cigarettes, prettily tied with gay 
ribbon, and with his or her name printed in full on the 
ornamental wrapper, having been copied from the regis- 
ter during the inspection of the premises. One of our 
party, who has an utter detestation of tobacco in all 
shapes and modes of use, and was with difficulty induced 
to enter the building, accepted hers with a some- 
what embarrassed grace ; while her companions shook 
with ill-suppressed merriment at the incongruity be- 
tween the donation and the tastes of the donee. Never- 
theless, she heartily endorsed the general opinion that 
the generosity and courtesy of the proprietors of " La 
Honradez " deserve honorable mention, and might fitly 
be imitated by manufacturers of wares that have a 
better title to the interest of the public. 

We now left the narrow streets of the old city 
behind, and drove through the " Gates of Monserrate," 
the " Prado," and the " Paseo Tacon," to the gardens of 
the Captain-General, — a large extent of ornamental 
grounds, surrounding a pretty, villa-like residence 
known as " Los Molinos ; " where that dignitary seeks 
repose from the cares of state, and where his family 
resides for the greater part of the time, reserving the 
sombre Palace for state occasions. The gardens are 
very handsomely laid out with walks, avenues, thickets, 



WITHIN AND WITHOUT THE WALLS. 43 

flower-beds, and arbors, and contain a fine collection 
of foreign and native plants. There was a dazzling 
profusion of gorgeous, tropical flowers, — cacti of e very- 
hue of blossom and every sort of prickly development — 
tall, shapely oleanders — shivering mimosas — coral flow- 
ered pomegranates — jessamines that seemed to have 
laughed themselves into their exuberance of sunny 
blossom — water-lilies that it took away one's breath to 
look at — aloes, whose stately candelabra of gorgeous 
blooms were worthy of- a place on Nature's highest altar 
— and vines whose prodigality of leaf and flower gave 
one an almost painful sense of beauty running to waste. 
Beside these, there was a lovely wilderness of blossoms, 
unknown to me by name. 

Among the trees I noticed several fine specimens of 
the date palm, apparently perfectly at home ; and I see 
no reason why that species should not flourish anywhere 
in the Island, if the people had enterprise enough to 
introduce it. But never was there a race more wedded 
to the policy of "letting well-enough alone." I sug- 
gested the idea to Juan, to see what he would make 
of it. 

" What need ?" said he, with the ever ready shrug ; 
" we have fruits for every month in the year, and vege- 
tables all the year round. Why desire more ? " 
1 This garden owns one of the finest avenues of the 
royal palm to be seen in all Cuba. Its grand per- 
spective seems like that of a vast and lofty temple. 
The smooth, straight trunks of the trees are the most 
stately and shapely of columns j and the intertwining 



44 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

leaves of green, shimmering and gleaming * in the sun- 
shine, form the loveliest of traceries and illuminated 
roofs. Looking through it, I seemed to discover whence 
came the inspiration of Grecian architecture, as he who 
wanders through long aisles of arching elms may be- 
lieve that he sees whence sprang the graceful outlines 
of the Gothic temple. And as the latter clearly 
breathes of aspiration, — embodying its yearnings, its 
struggles, and even its vagaries, — so the former is full 
of the repose of attainment, and symbolizes the com- 
pleteness, the simplicity, and the majesty of law. 

There is a little canal running through the grounds, 
for purposes of irrigation, as well as to lend a bright 
sparkle of water to their attractions, and as I was rest- 
ing on the bank two bright boys of the Captain-Gene- 
ral's came out, and embarked in a gayly-painted boat 
anchored near ; and while the younger was wholly 
intent on raising a small Spanish flag in the stem, the 
elder deferentially doffed his hat to my foreign h ce as 
they floated past me. "What a charm there is in ease 
and grace of manner ! I believe that my countrymen 
are, in the main, more intelligent and large-hearted and 
sincere, than these courtly foreigners; but I do wish 
that some of the fair flowers of courtesy, which spring so 
naturally from a Spaniard, might be ingrafted on the 
sturdy stock of their solid virtues ! 

Having been forced to observe how far the tropics 
surpass us in luxuriant foliage and brilliant flowers, 
my national pride was soothed to notice that Cuba can 
produce nothing like the vivid green of our velvet turf. 



WITHIN AND WITHOUT THE WALLS. 45 

There is an attempt at it in the Captain-General's gar- 
den, but the grass is thin and sickly ; evidently it is an 
exile, thrusting no willing root into the soil, and having 
left all heart and energy behind. I felt drawn toward 
it by a certain dreary sympathy, and I pressed a forlorn 
sprig thereof in my note-book, beside a dainty spray of 
a lovely, wandering vine and a flower whose ruby 
coronal might have been cut from the very heart of the 
sunset that was glorifying the western sky as we left 
the grounds. All honor to the Captain-General for 
throwing them so generously open to the public. There 
is a sentinel at the gate, to be sure, and two others are 
pacing before the house ; but neither interferes with any 
quietly-behaved visitor, and the walks, the avenues, the 
flowers, and the arbors, are free to all who come. 

We finished the day on the paseo, a mixture of street 
and pleasure-ground, whose use is peculiarly a Cuban 
institution. Society, as we understand it, does not seem 
to exist here. La retreta takes the place of our even- 
ing visits, and the paseo serves for our morning calls. 
Beside these, there are calls of ceremony, set balls, " il 
teatro" an occasional dinner, and — nothing more ! — or 
if there is, I have failed, as yet, to discover it. 

The Paseo de Ysabel Segunda crosses the city in a 
straight line from bay to ocean, just outside the walls. 
It is between three or four hundred feet wide, and 
about a mile long ; different parts of it being known by 
different names, as the " Prado," the " Parque de Isabel," 
etc. It is ornamented with fine trees, shrubbery, flowers, 
glorietas, statues, and fountains, — the finest of the latter 



46 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

being of Carrara marble, the gift of a patriotic citizen, 
and known as Lafuente de la India. Furthermore, it has 
two broad drives for carriages, between which there are 
seats for loiterers and walks for promenaders ; and along 
its course are some of the finest public and private build- 
ings of the city. But the favorite drive and promenade 
is the " Paseo de Tacon," — a noble double avenue, lined 
with trees and villas, and beautified with fountains and 
statuary, leading from the Prado to El Cerro, — a small 
hill-village three miles from Havana, commanding a 
magnificent view of city, suburbs, and ocean. This 
paseo is named in honor of a former Captain-General, to 
whom, though he seems to have been an unmitigated 
despot (or perhaps for that very reason), Havana owes 
more improvements than to any of his predecessors. 

Up and down this paseo go long lines of volantes and 
carriages, in which one sees all the beauty and fashion 
of the city, all its civil and military dignitaries, all its 
visitors, and as large a delegation of its plebeians as are 
fortunate enough to own or can hire a shabby volante 
for the purpose. Now and then a mounted guardsman, 
in a pretty and seasonable uniform of striped linen, with 
collar and cuffs of scarlet or green cloth, and sword 
and pistols flashing in the sunlight, rides by, to show 
that the government takes as kindly an oversight of the 
pleasures of its children, as it does of their business and 
journeyings. 

Up and down, up and down, in long flashing lines, 
go the jingling volantes, with a pair, or it may be a 
triad, of gayly-dressed ladies in each; and gentlemen 



WITHIN AND WITHOUT THE WALLS. 47 

crowd the footpaths, and stare and smile and bow, with 
a cigar in each mustachioed mouth, to sustain them 
under the exertion. It is rare to see a gentleman occu- 
pying the seat with a lady. Occasionally an unmis- 
takable paterfamilias, with wife and children, exhibits 
himself thus ; but in general, the masculine sex takes a 
volante to itself, or lounges on the sidewalks. The 
ladies, according to their wont, are bareheaded and 
decolletSeSj with their long, showy skirts hanging out of 
their volantes ; and one look at the combinations of 
colors in their toilets would go far to make a French 
modiste a candidate for the mad-house. Yellow and 
scarlet, blue and purple, green and orange, seemed to 
be favorite combinations; and though the dark eyes 
and complexions of the Cubanas carry off these astound- 
ing contrasts with a far better grace than their fairer 
sisters of the North could do, still they give them a 
look undeniably " dowdy " — not to say vulgar — to eyes 
unaccustomed to such gaudiness of attire. Perhaps this 
was the reason why so very few of them seemed any- 
wise pretty to me. After a little, I came unwillingly to 
the decision that my cherished ideal of Cuban beauty 
could never stoop to incarnate itself in any of those fat, 
fussy, overdressed matrons, nor those thin, sallow, life- 
less, and likewise overdressed maidens. In all that vast 
crowd of the elite of Havana, I saw only two or three 
that it gave me any pleasure to look at ; and not one 
that I should ask to play Juliet to my Romeo, from a 
vine-wreathed balcony on a moonlit night, if I were the 
gay gallant that I am not. It must be admitted that 



48 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

most of them had bright black eyes, but these could not 
redeem an otherwise utterly heavy, characterless physi- 
ognomy. 

The carriage of the Captain-General passed us several 
times, wherein sat that official, with one or two of his 
staff, all smoking and staring like their brethren on foot. 
He was a stout man, with a stolid face, and an ennuye 
air ; and I could not help a sad wonder, as I encoun- 
tered his dull gaze, if those two bright, rollicking boys of 
his that I had seen just before, could ever grow up into 
so many pounds of heavy, inert flesh, and take on such 
a burnt-out, inanimate cast of countenance. I hope it 
was not wicked to think it were better for them to go 
down in their painted skiff to the bottom of the tran- 
quil water, and leave their images pure beside the 
water-lilies on its banks ! 



CHAPTER VII. 

COLUMBUS. THE CATHEDRAL. 

~^TEAR one corner of the Plaza de Armas is a small 
Grecian chapel, standing, tradition affirms, on the 
spot where Mass was first celebrated in Cuba, under the 
direction of Columbus. A comparison of dates and 
records shows the statement to be hypothetical; as far 
as regards the presence of Columbus, — which is prob- 
ably a bit of that green, mossy growth wherewith Time 
loves to deck the hard, gray outlines of Fact, — but there 
seems to be no reasonable doubt that this is the site of 
the performance of the first Mass. The interior of the 
chapel is nowise remarkable; it contains a bust of 
Columbus and three historical paintings, all of very 
moderate merit ; and is opened to the public but once a 
year, on the feast of San Cristobal, which is made an 
occasion of much solemnity. In front of the chapel is a 
courtyard, with a handsome iron gateway bearing aloft 
the royal arms of Spain, encircled by the ever-recurring 
motto, " La siempre fielisima isla de Cuba "/ and about 
half-way between the gate and chapel stands a monu- 
mental column, which bears on one side, in Spanish, the 
following inscription :— 



50 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

" The city of Havana was founded in 1515, and when it was 
removed from its first site to the shores of this harbor, in 1519, 
there stood on this spot a luxuriant Ceiba tree, under which, it 
is said, was celebrated the first Mass, and the first Council. It 
survived until 1753, when it became sterile ; and in order to per- 
petuate its memory, our Catholic Sovereign, Ferdinand VII., then 
governing Spain, caused this monument to be erected. Field 
Marshal Don Francisco Cajigal de la Vega, Knight of Santiago, 
being Governor and Captain-General of this Island, and Doctor 
Don Manuel Philip de Arango, LL.D., being Attorney-General. 
A.D. 1754." 

It will be observed that the above mentioned Ceiba 
tree must have been more than three centuries old when 
it "became sterile;" as Cuba was discovered in 1492, 
and the first Mass could not have taken place many- 
years later. Not less than fifty years could have sufficed 
to make it the "luxuriant" tree it is stated to have been, 
as the Ceiba is slow of growth, though it attains to an 
enormous size, and is one of the most striking trees in 
Cuba. It is often a hundred feet in height, sending up 
a strong, massive, sinewy trunk to more than half that 
distance, when it divides into brawny, wide-spreading 
branches, and covers their delicate sprays with a thick 
green canopy of velvety leaves, — the whole bearing a 
striking resemblance to a mighty umbrella. 

The inscription, quoted above, is repeated in Latin 
on another face of the monument; and on a third is 
still another, of the following import : — 

"D. 0. M. 

" The most illustrious and august hero, Christopher Columbus, 
famed for his nautical skill, after having discovered a New World 



THE CATHEDRAL. 51 

and given it to the crown of Castile, died at Valladolid, May 20th, 
1506. His body, being given in charge of the Spanish Carthu- 
sians, was transferred, at his own request, to the Church of the 
Metropolis of Hispaniola * When peace was concluded with the 
French Kepublic, his remains were removed from thence to the 
Cathedral of the Virgin Mary of the Conception; the principal 
religious orders assisting at the solemnities, Jan. 19th, 1795. The 
city of Havana, honoring the memory of so great a benefactor, 
treasures his remains unto the last great day. 

" The illustrious Senor Don Philip Joseph Trespalacios being 
Bishop, and His Excellency Don Louis de las Casas, Governor and 
Captain-General." 

Few stories have so deeply stirred the world's heart 
as that of Columbus; few pictures are so clear to our 
mental vision as the calm, noble figure of the great 
Genoese, standing on the prow of his miserable, leaky- 
vessel, with a background of dark, mutinous faces, and 
straining his eager, confident gaze over the unknown 
seas, for a first glimpse of that New World which had so 
long limned itself upon his imagination, or beckoned to 
him in his dreams. I turned my steps toward the Cathe- 
dral, therefore, with something of the spirit in which 
devout pilgrims, in Catholic countries, seek out the tombs 
of saints and martyrs. 

The "Cathedral de la Yirgen Maria de la Concep- 
cion " (to give its name in full) is a large, quaint struc- 



* Hayti was named Hispaniola, or New Spain, by Columbus ; 
its" "metropolis" was St. Domingo. It is curious to note how 
successfully these islands have resisted all foreign christening. 
Cuba was successively named Juana, Fernandina, Santiago, and 
Ave Maria, but still clings to its first Indian name of Cuba. 



52 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

ture of stone, with a pillared front, a tower at each 
angle, and a hoary, crumbly, moss-grown surface. It 
is not beautiful ; it would scarcely be imposing but for 
its age and the spiritual grandeur which invests and 
transfigures it. For the edifice that contains the ashes 
of Columbus must needs have a* moral sublimity far 
more impressive than any mere majesty of architecture ; 
they honor the walls where they lie more than the 
grandest mausoleum could honor them. And in truth, 
no building repays long study, unless its walls contain 
some ideal structure or shadow forth some Divine truth, 
vastly more grand and beautiful than aught which meets 
the outward gaze ; and whenever this sentiment, or soul, 
of the structure is lost sight of, and you feel yourself 
compassed about and overborne by barren facts of stone 
and mortar, height and depth, color and finish, better 
turn your bagk upon it and go your way, ere the hard, 
unyielding details of the Actual have conquered and 
cast out the richer, nobler, lovelier vision of the Ideal. 
Mass was being celebrated as we entered the shadowy 
portal, and the nave was partly filled with kneeling 
figures of women. I but half noted these things, how- 
ever, in the first, quick glance that I sent round the 
building, in search of its chief object of interest ; and 
having found that, I saw nothing further. A mural 
tablet, in the choir, on the left of the high altar, shows 
where the remains of the Great Discoverer rest finally, 
after their several .sojourns at Valladolid, Seville, and 
San Domingo, before they were brought hither and 
inurned in the chancel wall. The tablet is of white 



THE CATHEDRAL. 53 

marble, and presents in alto-relievo a bust of Columbus, 
with nautical instruments grouped underneath, and the 
following inscription: 

" Restos e Imagen del grande Colon ! 
Mil siglos durad guardados en la Urna, 
T en la remembranza de nuestra Nation." * 

This seems rather meagre, but it suffices to bring the 
whole familiar story of that marvellous life before the 
spectator ; and leaning against a 'convenient column, I 
gave myself up to the contemplation thereof, and the 
reflections inseparable therefrom. I thought of his long, 
patient struggle, his short, brilliant triumph, his sud- 
den, unmerited disgrace ; I remembered his unflinching 
courage, his high-soulecL devotion, his patience under 
provocation, his generosity in success, his dignity in 
misfortune ; until, at last, bowed and broken — far less 
by the toils of an adventurous life, the long sickness of 
hope deferred, or the persecutions of enemies, than by 
the coldness and treachery of friends, and the " serpent's 
tooth" of ingratitude — he gave up the long struggle, 
and died with the pathetic request that his chains (those 
chains wherein he had been brought back from the hem- 
isphere which he had discovered, to the country which he 
had enriched by the magnificent gift ! ) might be buried 
with him in the Island of his love. Poor, proud, broken 



* A literal translation of which is, — 

" remains and image of the great Colon ! 
Endure for a thousand ages, guarded in this urn, 
And in the remembrance of our nation." 



54 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

heart ! its long ache over, its indignant throbbings 
stilled, it rests tranquilly in the bosom of the beautiful 
" Queen of the Antilles," the fairest jewel in the crown 
of that realm which repaid the donor with coldness, 
ingratitude, imprisonment, and neglect. Yet thus has 
the world ever treated its benefactors, even as it cru- 
cified its Christ ! O hearts that toil and yearn for the' 
good of your race ! — O eyes straining your gaze across 
the ocean of discovery for some yet unfound help or 
consolation or beauty ! — look for no reward here but the 
iron that enters into the soul and the crown that 
lacerates the brow. Yet be not discouraged ! but so 
labor and so pray that ye may receive your reward 
hereafter from the hand of Him, whose sweet words 
float down to us through the wrong and the discord of 
nineteen centuries, " Not as the world gives, give I unto 
you." 

The thread of my meditations was broken by a 
light touch on my shoulder, and a priest at my elbow 
said, very politely, and in good English, " Will you 
please to kneel ? " I heard him make the same request 
of other visitors standing near, but, as far as I could see, 
without producing any effect, except that one or two 
drew back into a somewhat less conspicuous position, 
near the wall. However, it seems to me both discourte- 
ous and irreverent, to listen to any religious service 
without paying some token of respect to its intent, or 
to the proportion of truth which it contains ; and as a 
pleasant-faced Spanish girl close at my feet, with a 
courteous gesture, made room for me on her bit of 



THE CATHEDRAL. 55 

carpet, I sank down beside her in the desired posture. 
It was beautiful and fitting, I thought, in that vast, old 
temple, with the tomb of Columbus preaching solemnly 
of earth's mutations and disappointments, that I should 
join my foreign sisters in a fervent prayer that, as Christ 
was .lifted up on the cross for the whole race of man, so 
we, and all who believe on Him, might be lifted above 
the ambitions, the temptations, and the cares of the 
world, into a purity of life and a charity of temper 
becoming His followers. But it was impossible to pre- 
serve a devotional frame of mind long; thoughts of 
Columbus, of Romish dogmas and corruptions, recol- 
lections of a simpler and more helpful ritual in the home- 
tongue and the home-land, chased each other swiftly 
through my brain: and I was glad when the service 
allowed a change of posture, and I could sit comfortably 
{squat were the more descriptive, though less elegant, 
term) on my carpet, and gaze around me like my neigh- 
bors, — only without the pretence, or the mechanical 
habit, of devotion, which kept the beads of their 
rosaries sliding through their slender fingers, and their 
lips moving with inaudible " Pater Nosters " and " Ave 
Marias." 

There was a number of priests at the altar, twelve or 
fifteen, at least, — all dignified of mien, and reverent of 
manner. The *intoning of the service was unpleasantly 
loud and harsh, and the echo from the marble walls was 
like the blare of a trumpet. There was no choir but the 
priestly one, which was accompanied by an extremely 
fine, sweet-toned organ. There was somewhat more of 



56 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

ceremony in the lighting, placing, and carrying of wax 
candles, and the swinging of censers and burning of 
incense, than I have observed in the service of the 
Romish Church in the United States ; and at one time 
an altar-boy offered a small golden vessel — probably 
containing a relic — to the lips of the devotees nearest 
the altar, who kissed it with great apparent reverence 
and eagerness. 

The interior of the Cathedral is far finer than its 
outside warrants. The lofty dome and vaulted roof are 
supported by tall pillars of marble ; there is some very 
fine masonry of stones of divers colors, whereof the 
dominant hue is a sunny yellow ; and the walls are 
richly frescoed, though the colors are somewhat dimmed 
by time. The high altar is a magnificent affair, consist- 
ing of a base of various kinds of marble supporting a 
dome and pillars of porphyry, under which is a statue 
of the Immaculate Conception ; but it is covered with 
such a medley of images, candlesticks, artificial flowers, 
and tinsel, that all idea of sacredness is quite lost in its 
irresistible suggestion of a toy-shop. Behind it is the 
bishop's throne ; and around are the stalls for the priests, 
of richly wrought mahogany, with carved heads of the 
apostles over them. Various smaller altars and shrines 
are ranged along the side- walls, each with its appropriate 
pictures, doll-like images dressed in tinsel and tawdri- 
ness, artificial flowers, and bones of saints preserved in 
alcohol like diseased specimens in a surgeon's office ; but 
I brought none of these things away in my memory, 
except a hideous, distorted image of the Mater Dolorosa, 
which, having once seen, it is not easy to forget. 



THE CATHEDRAL. 57 

The floor was of variegated marble, unincumbered 
by seats, except a few benches running from pillar to 
pillar up the nave, for the accommodation of foreign 
visitors. In the body of the church knelt the dark-eyed 
Habaneras, telling their beads with a graceful, piquant 
turn of their small hands, and taking calm note of all 
that was going on around them, ' at the same time. 
Every few moments, a new-comer appeared, followed by 
a servant bearing her square of carpet ; and when that 
was duly spread for the mistress in the most eligible 
vacancy, the servant knelt behind on the marble, with a 
manifest expectation of sailing smoothly to heaven in 
her wake. The ladies were nearly all dressed in black — 
the prescribed costume for church-going, — wrEh the 
graceful Spanish mantilla of black lace covering their 
heads and falling around their shoulders. I was sur- 
prised to see how much prettier, more delicate and more 
womanly, they looked thus than as I had seen them on the 
paseo; and I remembered half-remorsefully the sweeping 
criticism on their personal appearance that I there regis- 
tered against them. The young girl who had made 
room for me looked positively lovely, with her eyes cast 
down, their long lashes sweeping her cheek, and her face 
partly shaded by her mantilla ; and just opposite was a 
lady of regal beauty, whose large, black, steadfast eyes, 
and statue-like grace and stillness of pose, held me spell- 
bound with admiration. It was melancholy to think 
that such loveliness should be disguised, degraded, 
utterly lost, in those tawdry fineries of the paseo ! 

Near the altar I saw a Franciscan monk in dark blue 
3* 



58 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

gown with rope-girdle ; farther down was a Carmelite 
in brown ; and an old negro, wrinkled, white-haired, and 
bent, knelt in the shadow of one of the pillars, with a 
touchingly devout and absorbed face — the only males 
that I saw joining in the service. Several gentlemen, 
mostly foreigners, lounged in the aisles outside the col- 
umns, scanning, and commenting upon, the kneeling 
women ; and many more were gathered at the door, wait- 
ing to hand them to their volantes, as they came forth. 
This service may be rendered to a lady by any gentleman 
who is at hand ; and, if he be so minded, he can add a 
compliment to her beauty, and it will be received with 
smiles and thanks. Let him not presume upon this 
graciousness, however, to accost her elsewhere; she 
will probably ignore any previous knowledge of him, 
and her nearest male relative will be prompt to avenge 
the insult with pistol or stiletto. It is almost the only 
thing in which you can expect a Spaniard to be in a 
hurry. For every other hasty impulse, in business or 
pleasure, he has a convenient, salutary proverb, " El que 
se apresura, se muere, y el que no tambien" (he who 
hurries, dies, and he who hurries not, dies also) ; but in 
the matter of resentment, it is not even a "word and 
a blow," but the blow comes first and renders word 
unnecessary. 

Mass being over, we commenced a systematic tour 
of the building. Beginning with the side altars, we 
found them to be mostly of solid mahogany, richly 
carved and gilt ; with now and then a really fine old 
painting by way of altar-piece. One of these is said to 



THE CATHEDRAL. 59 

be a Murillo, but the evidence of its genuineness is 
scarcely conclusive. Opposite to the tomb of Columbus 
is a painting on glass, more curious and venerable than 
beautiful, having been painted in Italy, and blessed by 
the Pope, in 1478, some years before the discovery of 
America. 

Seeing us hesitate between two doors, a handsome 
young deacon, or neophyte of some sort, came forward 
and offered to guide us. Under his auspices, we took a 
closer view of the high altar and the choir ; and were 
especially delighted with the glorious vista of the inte- 
rior church as seen from thence, with yellow rays of 
sunshine and deep shadows of massive pillars and arches 
intermingling on its marble floor. We also beheld the 
rear of the tomb of Columbus, and glanced into the 
little chapel of the "Virgin of Loretto," where two or 
three penitents were kneeling, not so absorbed in their 
devotions but that they returned our glance with interest. 
In the vestuario, we were shown the robes of the priests, 
of rich velvet, satin, lace, and gold and silver tissue, 
often richly embroidered and adorned with precious 
stones; also the altar linens and laces, of exquisite 
fineness and beauty ; also divers silver crucifixes, candle- 
sticks, censers, chalices, sprinklers, etc., etc. Our young 
guide tossed these things about in a way that would 
have made his superiors stare, I am certain ; he threw 
a chasuble over Juan's broad shoulders, to give better 
effect to its embroidery, put the incense, boxes to my 
nose, and hospitably offered us a bumper of the sacra- 
mental wine. He then led the way to the parish chapel 



60 MY WINTER UN CUBA. 

alongside of the Cathedral, showed the large font con- 
taining the holy water (of such capacity that it needs to 
be filled and blessed but once a year), and offered to fill 
me a bottle with the sacred fluid, if I desired. Next, he 
led us through the shadowy cloisters, — worn smooth by 
the footsteps of more than a hundred years! — to the 
sunny inner court-yard, where flowers were blooming 
and ancient fountains dripping ; and upon which looked 
the windows of the ecclesiastical dormitories and offices, 
and the galleries of the theological seminary of San 
Carlos. On our way, we saw priests praying, hearing 
confessions, reading, smoking, chatting, and promenad- 
ing, and the sweet echoes of the organ and the deep 
voices of the priestly choir followed us throughout, — a 
second service being now in progress in the Cathedral. 
Finally, our obliging guide showed us out through a 
side-entrance at the right of the chapel. Here, I thought 
I should have sunk through the floor, to see Juan take 
out his purse and offer him a gratuity for his pains ! 
But my mortification was wasted, inasmuch as he 
accepted it without surprise or difficulty. I have since 
learned that no one need scruple to hold out a real or a 
peseta to anybody in Cuba from whom he has occasion 
to receive the smallest service. 



CHAPTER Vm. 

THE FISH-MARKET. 

ii "TTTE will just look into la pescaderia" said Juan, 
as we left the Cathedral. " It is close by." 

" I would rather be excused,"g^iid I. " Fish have no 
charms for me, at any point between the water and the 
dinner-table. And as for a fish-market — faugh ! " 

" But everybody goes," persisted Juan. 

" I will be nobody, then, and stay away." 

Nevertheless, Juan's native Spanish obstinacy car- 
ried the day. The fish-market being reached, in we 
went. 

Nor was the visit ill-repaid. La pescaderia is built 
of stone, with an arcaded front. The forms for the 
reception of the fish are permanent structures of stone 
or marble, with tiled tops ; and upon them is perhaps 
the finest piscatorial display to be seen in the world ; 
for the waters hereabout have a multifarious finny popu- 
lation, some portion of which makes part of every break- 
fast and dinner served in Havana or its vicinity. In my 
tour of the market, I saw sharks, large and small, whole 
and in fractions, — huge porpoises, waiting to be turned 
into oil, tasajo, and canes, — rays, armed with wicked- 
looking spines, — beautifully striped bass and parrot- 



62 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

fish, — immense flounders, — fish blue, green, silver, 
golden, spotted, and rainbow-hued, — to say nothing of 
snake-like eels, and shell-fish of every known and un- 
known variety. It was impossible to avoid becoming 
interested ; some of the monsters were fascinatingly 
ugly, some of the smaller fry exquisitely beautiful ; and 
I hung over the stands till Juan sarcastically observed 
that the difficulty of getting me in was likely to be 
more than equalled by the difficulty of getting me 
out! 

" What a fine building it is ! " I rejoined, somewhat 
irrelevantly, looking up at the massive stone pillars and 
arches, and comparing them mentally with the dinginess 
and dilapidation of the larger New York markets. 

" Oh ! " said Juan, " the market is a government 
institution and monopoly, you know." 

" But I don't know," returned I. " How should I ? " 

Thereupon Juan told me a story. To the best of my 
recollection and belief, it ran as follows : 

In the days when Tacon was Captain-General of 
Cuba,— that is to say, between 1834 and 1838, — a cer- 
tain daring and skilful adventurer, half-smuggler, half- 
pirate, named Marti, at the head of a number of lawless 
men like himself, haunted and harassed the coast ; mak- 
ing the neighboring Isle of Pines, of which he styled him- 
self the " King," his chief stronghold and base of oper- 
ations. With characteristic energy and determination, 
Tacon at once set to work to capture the leader and 
break up the band ; but after some months of ceaseless 



THE FISH-MARKET. 63 

activity and vigilance, was mortified to see that he had 
accomplished literally nothing. The light, fleet vessels 
of the rovers, guided by men who were familiar with 
every rock, shoal, channel, and inlet, of the waters 
which they frequented, had laughed to scorn his whole 
maritime force; while his coast-guard had been alter- 
nately beaten and outwitted.. 

Tacon now set another and more powerful agent at 
work — gold. He offered a large reward and a free 
pardon to any one of the band who would desert and 
turn informer ; and double the sum for any information 
that should lead to the capture of Marti, dead or alive. 
The utmost publicity was given to these offers; they 
were carefully posted wherever they would be. likely to 
meet the eyes of the rovers, but for a time without ap- 
parent effect, — the band of Marti held no traitor. 

However, late one night, as Tacon was * writing in 
his room alone, with a sentinel marching up and down 
the corridor, a tall, dark man, wrapped in a military 
cloak, quietly walked in from the antechamber. 

Tacon sprang to his feet. "Who are you?" he 
demanded, haughtily. " And how came you here, at 
this hour, unannounced ? What do you want ? " 

" One question at a time, Mccelencia" answered the 
stranger, composedly. " It does not matter, at present, 
who I am. I came by the door, as you saw. And I am 
here to give information of great value to the govern- 
ment. But it is for your ear alone. Therefore, speak 
not so loud ; the entrance of yonder guard would seal 
my lips, and tortures would not open them. Is your 
Excellency willing to listen to what I have to say T y 



64 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

" Speak on," replied Tacon. 

" You desire information of the island-rovers. You 
have offered a princely reward for the capture of Marti, 
their captain." 

" Yes, yes ! " exclaimed Tacon, eagerly, — " what do 
you know of him ? " 

" Excelencia" replied the stranger, " I must needs 
be cautious ; I would not criminate myself." 

" Be easy on that point," returned Tacon, " a free 
pardon is guaranteed to the informant." 

" Suppose he were himself a leader among the rov- 
ers?" 

" It makes no difference," said Tacon, impatiently. 

"A distinct understanding at first saves trouble at 
last," replied his visitor, coolly. " Have I your Excel- 
lency's word of honor that I shall receive the promised 
reward, and an unconditional pardon for all past viola- 
tions of the laws, — no matter what is my name and 
character, — if I guide you to the secret haunts of the 
rovers, and deliver Marti into your hands ? " 

"You have." 

" IZxcelencia, the Captain-General Tacon has been 
called ambitious, despotic, even cruel ; but no one has 
ever yet accused him of breaking his plighted word — " 

"Nor ever will," interrupted the general, haughtily. 

The dark stranger folded his arms with dignity. 

" jSenor, one half of my part of our compact is ful- 
filled. I am Marti — and in your hands." 

Tacon started, and almost involuntarily extended 
his hand toward a brace of pistols lying on the table. 



THE FISH-MARKET. 65 

The rover stood unmoved and motionless. Instantly- 
recovering himself, the general drew back his hand, 
eyed his visitor keenly, mused for a moment, resumed 
his chair, and began a low, business-like conversation, 
which we need not follow. 

Early on the next morning, a man-of-war in the 
harbor was ordered to prepare for an immediate cruise. 
At noon, Marti was sent on board, under guard. His 
directions were to be obeyed strictly, as long as he 
seemed to be acting in good faith ; but he was to be 
shot down without delay at the first indication of 
treachery. The rover, however, had not the least in- 
tention of turning back in the path upon which he had 
entered. One by one, the hiding-places of the rovers 
were visited, their stores seized, their vessels captured, 
and themselves made prisoners, by the help of the chief 
whom they had refused to betray ! 

When the work was complete, Marti returned to the 
general to claim his reward. "You have kept your 
word," said the latter, " I keep mine. ' Here is your 
pardon ; and here is an order on the treasury for the 
sum of " 

" Mccelencia, I have thought better of it," inter- 
rupted Marti. " The treasury is low, the payment of 
so large a sum will be inconvenient. I propose an 
exchange. No man on the island knows the fishing- 
grounds so well as myself. Give me the exclusive right 
to the fishing, and the . fishing trade, in the vicinity of 
Havana, for the next twenty years, and you may keep 
the order. I will build a public market that shall be an 



66 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

ornament to the city ; and at the end of the twenty years, 
both the market and the right shall revert to the gov- 
ernment." 

"Agreed," said Tacon, after a moment's consider- 
ation. 

At the expiration of the time specified, Marti was 
the richest man in Cuba. The market and the right 
then reverted to the government, which has since re- 
tained it. 

" And how did Marti end finally ? " I asked, when 
the story was done. 

"Died in his bed, with the consolations of the 
Church. Beyond that — one doesn't care to "follow 
him ! " replied Juan, with an expressive shrug of the 
shoulders, as he turned away to examine the writhing, 
flouncing load of a newly-arrived fisherman. 

Seeing me leaning somewhat wearily against one of 
the pillars, a good-natured fish-wife wiped the end of a 
bench and pushed it toward me. 

" Thank you," said I, sitting down. And I added, 
by way of explanation, — " I have spent the whole 
morning in the cathedral." 

" Ah ! no wonder la pobre nina is tired," said the 
woman, compassionately. "But isn't it a beautiful 
church ! " And she brought the tips of thumb and 
fingers to a focus and kissed them ecstatically, which is 
the tie plus ultra of Cuban encomium. 

"It is very fine," said I, somewhat less enthusi- 
astically. "But the tomb of Columbus interested me 
most." 



THE F1SM-3IAEKET. 67 

She looked puzzled. 

" Of Colon," I repeated. " You have heard of Cris- 
tobal Colon." 

" Oh, yes," she replied, smiling. " But he is not 
dead ; he still lives." 

" Lives ? — ah, yes — I suppose so," responded I, won- 
dering if she meant " en la remembranza de nuestra 
nation" and thinking that she didn't look quite like it. 

" Si, sefiora" she replied, calmly, " he keeps a cigar- 
shop just below here." 

Shade of Columbus, didst thou hear her ! 

I repeated the dialogue to Juan. " What would you 
have ! " said he, laughing. " Columbus has nine thou- 
sand nine hundred and ninety-nine namesakes on the 
island ; you may find them in worse places than cigar- 
shops. And as for history! — if you should ask that 
woman who is the present Captain-General, she would 
tell you c Tacon ! ' I think I heard, in the United 
States, that there were people who regularly voted for 
Jackson, at every presidential election." 

The ground being thus taken from under my feet, 
nothing remained but to thank " that woman " for her 
courtesy, and depart. I had already discovered that 
she was not a mulatto, as I first thought, but a native, 
with an extremely limited acquaintance with soap and 
water. In truth, it is astonishing to see how small a 
supply of those articles suffices for the daintiest Cubana 
of them all. Instead thereof, she keeps a bottle of 
aguardiente (a kind of rum) on her toilet-table, with 
which she moistens the corner of a napkin, and rubs 



68 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

her face, neck, and hands ; beyond which she seldom 
goes. Water, she assures you, is "very bad for the 
skin ; " and is dangerous in the extreme if you happen 
to have a cold. And if any one gets more than a daily 
allowance of a pint of water and a twenty-inch square 
of towel, in a Cuban hotel, he has richly earned it by 
browbeating the landlord and scolding and feeing the 
servants. 



CHAPTER IX. 

SHOPPING. — STREET SIGHTS. — LA PUERZA. 

rpHE delights of shopping, " on the American plan," 
are unknown in Cuba. In cases of rare importance 
and urgency, the ladies drive to the shop-doors, and 
such goods as they wish to examine are "brought out to 
them. A clerk standing by a volante, displaying piece 
upon piece of delicate linen lawn and sheer pinato the 
fair inmates, or trying pair after pair of kid and satin 
shoes upon their dainty feet, is no unusual sight. 

In general, however, when a Gubana wants any- 
thing, from a spool of thread to a silk robe, she calls, 
in a voice more clear and penetrating than soft, — for 
bells are also among things unknown, — " Atanasia ! " (or 
Juana, or Maria, one of which names will be sure to fit), 
and some unadulterated, unmitigated Africaness comes 
forth from her lurking place, turbaned and barefoot, 
and drops her slovenly courtesy. To her, " la senora " 
delivers a writing, setting forth the nature, quality, and 
quantity, of the article which she needs ; and the mes- 
senger goes forth, and presently returns with a consid- 
erable assortment of the goods required, on her head 
or in her hands ; to be examined and selected from in 
the lady's own room, assisted by a small crowd of chil- 



70 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

dren, servants, and other disengaged members of the 
household. Time is of no account in the transaction. 
Frequently, the servant trots back and forth four 
or five times between mistress and shops, cheapening, 
questioning, and exchanging, ere the bargain is con- 
cluded ; and nearly the whole day is consumed in the 
business, — i. e., the servant's day. Another phase of 
the affair is also noteworthy — the number and value of 
the goods thus entrusted to an ignorant, stupid servant. 
On one occasion when a set of jewelry was the thing 
desired, Atanasia shuffled home with twenty or thirty 
sets, varying in price from ten to fifty dollars! The 
science of thieving cannot have reached the perfection 
here which it displays in the United States : — in our 
modern Sodom, she would have been obligingly relieved 
of her burden on the first corner ! 

I was well aware, therefore, that it was a daring 
breach of universal custom to sally forth, on foot, for a 
morning's shopping, after the American fashion ; but I 
trusted to my foreignness to excuse the innovation ; and 
I knew that I could depend upon Juan's broad shoulders, 
and grave, well-known Spanish face to shield me from 
all unpleasantness. To confess the truth, I was in that 
state which is common to the American female mind, in 
view of shopping — perfectly sure that I wanted some- 
thing, but by no means certain what ! Or, to state the 
case more fairly, I wished to find some small trinkets or 
bijouterie — whatever might turn up — of unquestionable 
Cuban manufacture, and as full of pleasant suggestions 
of Cuban climate and manners as a rose is of perfume, 



SHOPPING. 71 

to serve for mementos of Havana, and gifts to Mends 
at home. If further justification of the step be re- 
quired, it must be found in the fact that I was dying (in 
a figure) for want of exercise. Up to this time I had 
made use of " Cuban feet," i. e., the volante. I now 
desired to satisfy myself, by a brisk walk, that my own 
were still fit for service, and not Cubanized into merely 
ornamental appendages, good for nothing under the 
sun but to adorn with fanciful French boots and slip- 
pers, and repose upon a footstool for the admiration of 
all and sundry. I had tried to keep them somewhat in 
training by pacing up and down the galleries and roofs 
of the hotel, followed by the wondering gaze of its 
Cuban inmates, till I was indescribably sick of the tame 
performance. All the more, that it invariably recalled 
the forlorn image of a royal lion which I once saw march- 
ing restlessly up and down his narrow cage, with a 
disdainful indifference to all spectators, and an eye of 
sorrowful longing for the freedom of his native jungle. 

Juan and I were soon deep in the intricacies of 
the narrow streets of the old city — so narrow that 
a stranger is apt to pass the first hours of his explo- 
rations in wondering when he will get out of the 
lanes and into the streets; but he will find only a 
few worthy of the name, and those outside the walls. 
In the older streets, I was often obliged to flatten myself 
against the walls of the houses, to avoid being swept 
off the narrow pavement by the furious passage of a 
volante ; a vehicle which dashes so recklessly through 
the streets and round the corners, that, if the wide, high 



72 , MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

windows were less strongly iron-grated, it would be 
certain to plunge headlong into a drawing-room now 
and then, in some of its rash turnings and erratic pro- 
gressions. Many of the streets were quite roofed with 
awnings, stretched from side to side ; and it was easy 
to imagine one's self walking under the vast tent of 
Peri-Benon, of Arabian Nights' fame, if there were only 
a few turbans and caftans about to help out the illusion. 
In truth, there is an almost ridiculous incongruity 
between the quaint, Oriental aspect of Cuban archi- 
tecture and manners, and the modern French fashions — 
stove-pipe hats and , dose-fitting pants. In one sense, 
certainly, Paris is " the world." 

The walls of the houses are often two or three feet in 
thickness, built of an irregular mixture of stones and 
mortar, and then stuccoed and painted. Although they 
are seldom of more than one story, the front wall is not 
less than twenty feet high, the top being ornamented with 
urns or carvings, and the roof sloping back to an interior 
court, upon which most of the rooms open. If the house 
boasts of two stories, the lower part is occupied as a 
store, or devoted to the kitchens, offices, and stables ; 
and the upper floor is reached by a wide staircase from 
the court, leading to a corridor above. The entrance 
is wide and lofty; the doors are double, of exceeding 
thickness, and further strengthened by bands and 
knobs of brass or iron till they look fit to resist a 
battering-ram ; and the windows are without glass 
and iron-grated like a prison. The floors are of 
marble, tiles, or stucco ; the walls whitewashed or fres- 



SHOPPING. 13 

coed ; the ceilings high, and often open to the roof, the 
beams of which are made presentable by painting, stain- 
ing, or carving. 

But, before the stranger has time to notice all these 
peculiarities of Cuban dwellings, his eyes are dazzled by 
their brilliancy and variety of color, where all the hues 
of the rainbow meet and mingle in odd and bewildering 
contrasts. One house has walls of a light green, with 
pink cornices and mouldings ; its neighbor is a delicate 
blue, with salmon trimmings ; the next is gray and 
orange, with some admixture of white, — or lilac and 
yellow, or pink and blue,— all shimmering and quivering 
in the hot, glowing air, until it seems like a vast, radi- 
ating, dissolving view. Nevertheless, after the first 
surprise is over, and your eyes are a little wonted to the 
dazzle, you discover that these vivid tints are in ex- 
quisite keeping with their surroundings. The tropics 
suggest color and demand it. It cannot easily be too 
profuse nor too gorgeous, albeit a better taste might 
preside over its use. 

You are next made sensible of the peculiar com- 
pound odor of the streets of Havana, very perceptible 
to newly-arrived noses, but not so easily resolvable by 
them into its components. The scientific formula would 
probably read something like this : — " smoke of tobacco, 
four parts ; steam of garlic, three parts ; aroma of negro, 
two parts ; miscellaneous garbage, one part." Never- 
theless, Havana is not an unclean city in some senses of 
the word ; it has none of that griminess and stickiness 
of filth wiiich makes New York an abomination to the 
4 



74 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

eyes and a stench in the nostrils, at certain seasons of 
the year. The dryness of the atmosphere and the arid 
sunshine, transform most impurities into a fine, cloudy 
dust ; which is kept down in the city by means of 
sprinkling, but becomes a sufficient nuisance on country 
roads, — for during my month's stay in Cuba, there has 
been no rain. 

Strangest thing of all, perhaps, to a foreigner, is the 
fact that as soon as he appears on the streets of Havana, 
he is taken into the very heart of its domestic life. The 
broad doorways are wide open, and the window-gratings 
do not, in the least, obstruct his observation of what 
occurs within. As he passes along, so close to the win- 
dows that he could easily thrust his arm between the 
iron bars to its full length, he sees ladies chatting and 
sewing — rocking, meanwhile, as if their lives depended 
on the regularity and continuity of the vibratory 
motion ; he sees children playing, and servants dusting 
and scrubbing, and meals being served and eaten ; he 
even gets glimpses of cooking, washing, and other 
domestic processes, going on in the courts and kitchens 
in the rear ; and he may possibly find himself involun- 
tarily witnessing the finishing touches of a fair seilo- 
rita's toilet. If a lady plays or sings, it is for the 
benefit of the entire neighborhood, stationary and tran- 
sient ; if there is a conjugal quarrel, every passer-by gets 
a taste of its bitterness ; and there is a continual cheery 
interchange of greetings between the inmates of the 
dwellings busied about their ordinary occupations, and 
their neighbors and acquaintances passing by in volantes 



SHOPPING. 15 

or on foot — the salutation always being " Adios!" 
which answers to our " Good by," instead of the 
hurried "How d'ye do?" which serves us for chance 
meetings. 

The " Calle de Mercaderes " is the Broadway of 
Havana, though the streets of Obispo and Ricla are 
scarcely less busy and attractive. Jewelry stores are 
many and handsome; dry-goods and fancy-goods are 
everywhere ; book-stores are good, though not plentiful. 
A certain corner store makes a specialty of wax-tapers 
for the devout, displaying them of every size and color, 
from an immense waxen pole that might serve as a sign 
for a barber's shop, to tiny pink, blue, and white tapers, 
fit for illuminating fairy halls. A certain other is 
devoted to abcmicos, otherwise fans, ranging in price 
from fifty cents to a hundred and fifty dollars ; the first 
of which the shopman tells you is " dumb," that is, 
incapable of the fan-language wherein the Cubanas are 
so well versed, and consequently not worth a groat for 
purposes of flirtation ; while the latter, he assures you, 
will lay the whole male population low at your feet. 
" See what a fine snap it has ! " he proceeds, opening 
and shutting it with a report that nearly makes you 
jump out of your skin. And having exhausted both 
language and gesture upon its perfections, he ends with 
that kiss on the finger-tips which signifies things unut- 
terable. Linens and laces are temptingly cheap ; so are 
palm-leaf hats ; so are Spanish books ; but having sat- 
isfied all reasonable wants in these lines of trade, better 
shut your ears and your purse. Unless you like to go 



76 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

to La Dominica^ and lay in a stock of guava jelly and 
marmalade for the home-table. It is good, it is cheap, 
it will keep (with proper care) till the end of time. Buy 
a hundred dollars worth, by all means — if you can 
afford it ! 

The merchants do not put their names over their 
doors, but each shop has its own pretty or fanciful title 
which figures alluringly on its sign ; and when your bills 
are sent home you find that you are indebted to " The 
Pearl," " The Sunbeam," " The Casket of Jewels," " The 
Garland of Flowers," " The beautiful Marina," or " The 
Ladies' Delight," instead of plain John Jones, or Seth 
Brown : and you pay them with unwonted pleasure, the 
sweet suggestions of the poetic names having shed a 
golden sheen over the otherwise prosaic transaction. 

But, oh ! the fabulous prices that those dark, hand- 
some, villainous shopkeepers, with their courtly bows 
and complimentary phrases, had the face to ask me for 
their wares ! and the smooth falsehoods that they poured 
into my amazed ears, swearing, by every saint in the 
Spanish calendar, that articles which had the marks of 
French and German manufacturers legibly stamped upon 
them, were wholly and immitigably Cuban — Cuban from 
their earliest inception to their latest finish! It was 
very amusing, too, to see how evidently Juan was re- 
garded in the light of an inconvenient and provoking 
obstacle in the way of trade ; and how one salesman 
sought to engage his attention, and get his back turned, 
while another attempted slyly to impose upon me some 
worthless, tinselled article, with a magnificent price. 



SHOPPING. 77 

After patient investigation, I came to the conclusion 
that the only articles of indubitable Cuban workman- 
ship, were cigarette holders, palm-leaf hats, canes of 
manati skin, a coarse kind of shoes of undressed 
leather, for plantation wear, and a few articles of kitch- 
en and bedroom furniture. If I had insisted upon any- 
thing further, I must have taken samples of sugar, mo- 
lasses, and cigars. 

As a last resource, I sought for stereoscopes, hoping 
to get some faint shadows of the beauties, the quaint- 
nesses, or the antiquities of the city, to help me to bring 
them more vividly before the vision of home friends. 
Many of the merchants were persuaded that such things 
had been taken sometime, and were for sale somewhere, 
— others thought not, — and after hunting the " some- 
where" through fifteen or twenty shops, I concluded 
that the last were right, and gave up the search in dis- 
gust. For it was verging toward noon, and I was heat- 
ed and weary with my long walk through the close 
streets and burning summer air. 

I went out of my way a little, however, on my re- 
turn route, to take a look at " De Soto's fort," the oldest 
fortification on the Island. It was erected under the 
auspices of the discoverer of the Mississippi, to protect 
the little town from the depredations of French and 
English buccaneers, when it was only a stopping-place 
for Spanish vessels plying between S pain and Mexico. 
It is a gray, weather-beaten, antiquated structure, so 
much of it as belongs to the original fort ; but it has 
been roofed over, and topped by ah additional story, to 



IS MY WINTER* IN CUBA. 

make it serve for barracks; which modern climax de- 
stroyed whatever interest and inspiration I might other- 
wise have gotten out of it. I could have shaken myself 
for the irreverence and irrelevance, but instead of think- 
ing of De Soto's romantic voyage and adventures or 
picturing the long, heart- wasting watch of his wife, Isa- 
bel de Bobadilla, for the return of the husband who had 
already found a grave beneath the Mississippi's yellow 
waters, I was perversely reminded of certain patched-up 
photographs that I have somewhere seen ; in which the 
smart coiffure and sprightly features of a modern belle 
were fitted on to the stout, comfortable figure, and old- 
fashioned garments of her grandmother ; or a boy's 
rosy, chubby face was joined to the shrunken limbs 
and " lean and slippered pantaloon " of an octogenarian. 
Neither did there seem to be any sufficient reason for 
this absurd resemblance, since the additions to the fort 
do not appear to be of very recent date. 

And now, friends mine, go back with me to the ho- 
tel, and from an airy, shaded balcony, look out over the 
city and suburbs, gilded with noontide glory. See how 
the sunshine gathers all things in its passionate embrace, 
— spires, houses, palms, and gardens, — and breathes 
over them a soft, delicious languor. The air is full of 
the soothing murmurousness of gauzy-winged insects, 
swarming and floating and shining ; and somewhere afar 
is a faint, faint sound that must come from the ocean. 
The atmosphere is of a mellow, creamy tint, quite differ- 
ent from its clear whiteness at the North ; you think it 
must have been filtered through gold or fused in a cm- 



SHOPPING. 79 

cible with amber, ere it was shed over this enchanted 
isle ; or you wonder how many ripe, gorgeous, glowing 
sunsets it has dissolved and holds in solution, to give it 
such wonderful softness of tone, and rare luminousness 
of tint. Seen through this warm, palpitating medium, 
objects do not stand out sharp and clear, as in our cold- 
er atmosphere ; their outlines soften and waver and grow 
vague and dreamy, and their colors are smoothed and 
blended, until you cease to think about details, and 
know only that you are living in a picture, and breath- 
ing sunshine — sunshine which is sweetness to your lungs, 
and repose to your heart. Your cares are soothed ; your 
pains and ills fall from you like ill-fitting garments ; all 
the dark realities of your life have a rainbow border, 
like objects seen through a prism. Your intellect is en- 
ervated, but your imagination is enriched ; you no long- 
er aspire to be a philosopher, but you are inly persuaded 
that you were born a poet, and have mysterious kinships 
with palm-groves and flowers. Sweet snatches of rare 
old songs come fitfully to your lips — gorgeous bits of 
Arabian Nights, imagery float hazily through your mem- 
ory — air-castles rise, rose-hued and radiant, on the sap- 
phire foundations of the cloudless sky — existence is be- 
come a luxury, and life a dream ! 



CHAPTER X. 

FROM HAVANA TO MATANZAS. 

" HA YE taken my last look (for the present) at the 

tomb of Columbus, and my last drive on the JPaseo 
de Tacon — I have enjoyed a final view from El Cerro — I 
have said adois to our friends, Mrs. and Miss R., — I 
have packed my trunks, I am going to Matanzas ! Un- 
der a certain hospitable Spanish roof, in that second 
city of Cuba, I am invited to spend some months. For 
this I came over the sea, ^nd all my sojourning and 
sightseeing in Havana have been but an idle loitering 
by the way, a pleasant prologue before the drama begins. 
Now, I am to plunge into the central flow of Cuban 
domestic life, leaving every waif and suggestion of the 
United States behind. Hereafter, I am to talk Spanish, 
eat Spanish, live Spanish, — do everything but dress 
Spanish, that is beyond my power of conformity ! 

Juan rouses me from an after-breakfast day-dream, 
to say that the cars will start in half an hour. " The 
cars!" I repeat, half unconsciously, "we go by rail, 
then?" 

"Of course," says Juan, looking at me attentively, 
" how did you expect to go ? " 

" On the Emir's carpet," say I, still dreaming of the 



FROM HAVANA TO MATANZAS. 81 

Arabian Nights, and Haroun al Raschid. " Or, at least," 
— suddenly awaking to present quaint realities, — " in a 
huge volante, with, twelve horses, and six postilions, and 
no end of silver plate and jingle ! " 

Juan's swarthy face darkens visibly. Pure-blooded 
Spaniard that he is, with the true peninsular contempt 
for Cuba — which is regarded merely as a mighty sugar- 
cane, out of which the Home Government annually 
squeezes sixteen or seventeen millions of revenue — he 
is not yet prepared to hear, with entire equanimity, the 
delectable and profitable province satirized, as he thinks, 
by an alien and a Yankee. " You will travel," he replies, 
slowly, and with dignity, " by as good a railway as ever 
you saw in your life, smooth and level as a ballroom 
floor; and at as rapid a rate as ever you did in the 
United States." 

Nevertheless, oh ! irate descendant of an hundred 
hidalgos, permit me to think that a railway seems an 
incongruity in Cuba : the harsh shriek of the locomotive, 
echoing over the palnirfringed valleys, steeped in sun- 
shine and silence, sounds shriller and more dissonant 
than elsewhere. Ruskin opines that the world would 
be better off without railways, and desires that the 
capital thus employed might be diverted to the estab- 
lishment and maintenance of schools ; and in Cuba, it is 
easy to become a convert to his opinion. One is even 
ready to go farther, and dispense with the schools also ! 
I suspect the " Cubaneras" do it, in effect. Their con- 
versation is a storehouse of vivid imagery, an inexhaust- 
ible fount of graphic and animated narrative of home 
4* 



82 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

incident and daily routine, — but woe to him who seeks 
to convert it into a mine of information ! Now and 
then, my New England temperament escapes for a 
moment from the languid, soothing spell of the delicious 
climate, and, " after its kind," asks questions. 

"Can you tell me when the Morro was erected?" I 
asked, one day, of a stout, placid Habanera. 

" Dios mio/" exclaimed she, with a low rippling 
laugh, " I am asked the age of the Morro, and I cannot 
even tell my own ! " 

No doubt thine ignorance was the true wisdom, soft 
daughter of the tropical noon ! Cui bono to reckon how 
many years the Morro has looked out on the shimmering 
sea, or how few it has taken to mellow thy beauty into 
its somewhat over ripeness? Albeit, not in the tropics 
alone is the female memory unreliable with respect to 
age. In lands nearer the Arctic Circle than the Equator, 
I have met with the same mistiness of recollection. 

On another occasion, I startled a dreamy seiiora, 
lazily rocking herself to and fro, and deep in the luscious, 
golden round of her third orange, with the question : — 

" What is the population of Cuba ? " 

Looking upon me, with eyes wherein amazement and 
contempt were at a drawn battle, and with the grand, 
imposing gesture of a tragic queen, she responded: 

" What do I know about population ? Ask me how 
many shirts my husband has, and I can tell you ! " 

Possibly thou wert right also, ' languid child of the 
sunbeams ! What need it matter to thee, or me, whether 
a few thousands more or less of stately Spaniards and 



FROM HAVANA TO MATANZAS. 83 

lithe Cubans drive, or fierce Coolies and brutish Africans 
toil, in thine isle of perpetual summer? Can we not 
lounge and dream our lives away in Boston rockers ? or 
thrust our arms, shoulder-deep, into the cool, odorous 
green of orange boughs, and pluck and eat the Hespe- 
ridean fruit ? But wherefore said'st thou " shirts" oh ! 
olive-cheeked and night-eyed daughter of the tropics ? 
For " shirts " is humdrum and prosaic, suggestive of 
close and wasting toil, of breaking back and straining 
eyes, weary with eternal stitching of " band, and gusset, 
and seam." If thou had'st said, "how many gold and 
silken embroidered slippers," or sheeny and beaded 
watch-cases, my discomfiture had been complete ! 

Juan and I rattle and swing to the depot in a 
volante. Then I am left in the waiting-room for some 
moments, while he attends to tickets, permits and 
checks. Here, I find myself, for once, the " observed of 
all observers," — not so desirable a position, by any means, 
as it sounds ! However, after returning as many of the 
glances levelled at me as I can, conveniently, I decide 
that my neighbors are justified in staring, if my travel- 
ling costume is as much of a queerity to them as theirs 
is to me ! The ladies are all attired in silk or muslin, 
as if for an afternoon at home, without bonnets, gloves, 
or wraps ; two only wear the Spanish mantilla of black 
lace which I have seen at church. Their long trains — 
which they never hold up — sweep the pavement. Their 
flitting, glistening, coquettish fans — always in motion, 
and now and then opened and shut with a sharp, sudden 
-snap, only attainable by long practice — make the room 



84 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

as brilliant as if it were swarming with butterflies. 
They have no parasols ; I have not seen such a thing in 
use since I came to this Land of the Sun, where it would 
seem to be almost a necessity. But Cuban ladies never 
go out in the middle of the day, while the sun is hottest, 
if it can be avoided. When they do, the overhanging 
volante top is a sufficient protection, or if they choose 
to ride with that thrown back, they face shine and wind 
" like a man." No, I do not mean that, either — for the 
men all wear hats ! Such exposure has its legitimate 
effect on the complexion, and the " fair sex," in Cuba, is 
uncommonly dark. 

On the floor of the room are squatted some half 
dozen negresses, in the capacity of ladies' maids. Their 
heads are gorgeously turbaned, of course; but their 
dress, in other particulars, seems designed for a broad 
caricature of that of their mistresses. Others, in a 
lower order of servitude, are clad in a single garment, a 
coarse sort of "baby-frock," slipping off the shoulders, 
and frequently gaping in the back enough to reveal the 
shining ebony skin and firm, strong muscle beneath. 
If, by any chance, one of these is so fortunate as to own 
an under-garment, it is sure to be "Isabella" color; and 
lest any of my friends should inquire forthwith for that 
new tint on Broadway, or Main street, I will just 
mention, en 2yassa?it i that it gets its name from a certain 
Spanish Queen, who vowed to the Virgin that in consid- 
eration of some favor which she desired, she would not 
change her linen for a year. And she kept her vow ! 
Isabella color is very common in Cuba. 



- FROM HAVANA TO 3IATANZAS. 85 

. There are two railway routes from Havana to Matan- 
zas. One, known as the " Regla route," is very direct, 
and measures about sixty miles; the other winds 
through the interior of the island, to bring out the 
sugar crop, and lengthens the journey to nearly one 
hundred miles. Being offered my choice, I designated 
the latter, as it would give me a better opportunity of 
studying the country. 

The cars are quite homelike in appearance, bearing 
the name of a well-known Massachusetts firm ; but so 
dingy, from long use, as to suggest the need of a fresh 
importation. They differ from ours only in having cane 
backs and bottoms to the seats ; upholstery being almost 
unknown in Cuba, as it is thought ill suited to the 
climate. They who know how long my existence 
vibrated between cushion and pillow, before I came 
hither, will wonder that I live to make the state- 
ment ; and the recollection of our luxuriously stuffed 
furniture is infinitely aggravating to an invalid. More- 
over, the Cuban race lounges so naturally and persist- 
ently, I marvel that it does not provide itself with the 
means to do it thoroughly. The comfort of a cane- 
seated sofa is not patent, to me ! 

My journey is a bewildering dream of beauty, — 
albeit, with a touch of the fable of Tantalus about it, 
inasmuch as I am borne swiftly past pleasant villas — 
trees laden with tropical fruits — flowering vines, climbing 
and rioting everywhere — lime and aloe hedges — dense, 
dark thickets and jungles — bright, glancing waters — and 
mazes of brilliant blossoms, belonging to an unknown 



86 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

flora, — yet cannot pause to touch, nor taste, nor even 
look, long enough to imprint anything more than the 
merest outline sketches on my memory. The stations, 
as with us, are always located in the most uninteresting 
spots ; — I find nothing there to repay attention, save a 
few loungers and hucksters, in attendance to discharge 
their respective duties ; i. e., stare at the train and dis- 
pose of their wares. 

I am somewhat surprised to discover that Cuba is 
not so flat a country as its cane-growing reputation would 
seem to indicate. To be sure, the valleys are quite 
level, and admirably adapted to that kind of culture ; 
but they lie between rocky and wooded ridges, and one 
is never out of sight of the graceful, pleasing undula- 
tions of a chain of hills ; or a blue, hazy mountain peak 
is seen across a sea of cane fields, and satisfies the soul 
with that sentiment of aspiration, that suggestion of 
the infinite, without which the loveliest landscape soon 
becomes monotonous. 

The trees are a continual surprise to me. The acacia 
is homelike enough, certainly, and I have become 
familiar with the mimosa in our own Southern States, — 
but the mango, with its dark, broad leaves, and wide- 
spreading branches — the drooping, rustling coco, laden 
with green, melon-like looking fruit — the bamboo, with 
its slender, reedy stems, and graceful, pendant foliage — ■ 
the banana, looking as if a sugar cane had suddenly 
made up its mind to become a tree, and was in a fair way 
to realize its ambition — the ceiba, giant of the forest, 
lifting its magnificent, regal canopy high above every- 



FROM HAVANA TO M AT AN Z AS. 87 

thing near it — the jaguey marcho, worst of parasites, 
stifling the largest and strongest trees in its cruel, wily 
embraces — the bomba, bearing aloft a fruit of the size 
of a watermelon, strikingly suggestive of broken heads 
to whomsoever may venture underneath, — these soon 
exhaust my small store of interjections and exclamation 
points, and leave me with nothing to say for the palm, 
which follows us all the way in graceful groups and 
groves, and is preeminently the tree of the tropics — 
Beauty's last and most perfect Apocalypse ! 

Now and then, across the dark, green billows of the 
cane-fields, at the end of a long, straight avenue of 
palms or orange-trees, we behold a large, stuccoed man- 
sion, with ample provision of broad) shacly piazzas ; near 
by are a long, flat roof, and a tall chimney spouting forth 
dense columns of black smoke; several smaller build- 
ings are grouped together in the vicinity; and the 
whole looks like a miniature village, but is really an 
" ingenio" or sugar plantation. Anon, we pass a de- 
generate " cafetal" or coffee estate, which branch of ag- 
riculture is slowly dying out in the Island. It looks like 
a pleasant bit of landscape gardening, untimely arrested, 
and given over to decay. But, as I shall have opportu- 
nity, by and by, to examine and describe these things in 
detail, I will not dwell upon them now. 

Farther along, we discover a different kind of hab- 
itation, a rude, and somewhat dilapidated, wooden struc- 
ture, with rafters of bamboo covered with dried palm- 
leaves, and surrounded by an acre or two of cultivated 
ground. In the doorway, sits a slender, lithe, indolent 



88 M Y WINTER IN CUBA. 

figure, lazily puffing at a cigar, with a hound stretched 
at his feet. This is a Cuban montero, a man that in 
character and social status, much resembles the " poor 
whites " of our South. It is difficult to say how he 
lives, — for he has a lordly detestation of labor, — but his 
wants are few, the soil beneath his feet is of incredible 
fertility, the sky above him does not so much as frown 
for many months in the year, and the climate is one of 
marvellous friendliness and amenity. Bananas and ?na- 
langas, growing almost spontaneously at his door, serve 
him in lieu of bread ; the streams supply him with fish ; 
and in order to breed game-cocks for his amusement, he 
must, of necessity, keep a few hens. He is seldom, or 
never, too poor to keep a horse, nor to load it with 
queer, cumbrous, silver-mounted trappings. Astride of 
this animal, which is at once' beast of burden and bosom 
friend, he roams about the country in most idle, noncha- 
lant, and independent fashion ; smoking, gambling, and 
cock-fighting ; and investing any chance gains in lottery- 
tickets. For the rest, he is quick-witted enough, but ut- 
terly uneducated ; warm-hearted and generous, but quite 
capable of repaying provocation or insult with several 
inches of the heavy, silver-handled machete, or cutlass, 
that hangs by his side ; and he is entirely without am- 
bition, for the despotic Spanish laws rob him of every 
incentive to improvement, and close every path to dis- 
tinction. 

At Melena, there is a longer detention than iisual, 
until, the patience of the passengers being all "un- 
wound from the reel," some one goes forward to investi- 



FROM HAVANA TO MAT AN Z AS. 89 

gate. Then, we learn that we have been the subjects 
of one of those gracious interpositions of Providence, 
which awe the boldest heart, and make the most scorn- 
ful lips tremble for a moment with something like a 
prayer and a thanksgiving. Some portion of the engine 
suddenly gave way, just as the train stopped ; and cer- 
tain repairs, thereby made necessary, are the cause of 
our delay. If the accident had occurred when the train 
was in rapid motion, it is impossible to say what damage 
and loss of life might have followed ! The intelligence 
stops, for a brief space, even the incessant motion of 
Cuban tongues, there is a silence and a shudder, and 
many cross themselves devoutly, and say aloud, " Gra- 
cias a Dios ! " (Thanks be to God !) 

When we are again in motion, night is closing in ; 
behind us is the Western rosiness, before us, the Eastern 
purple gloom. Symbolic, it seems to me, of the won- 
drous change which has been wrought in the world, 
since Columbus came over the sea ; — for the West is no 
longer the synonyme of ignorance, idolatry, and bar* 
barism. Thither not only the " star of empire takes its 
way," but the brighter luminaries of science, art, litera- 
ture ; while over the once radiant Orient settle the dark 
shades of superstition, the dim night of despotism, the 
sombre gloom of decay. 

We reach Matanzas at half past six, and I look out 
curiously for a first sight of the spot which is now to be 
my home ; but nothing can be seen distinctly through 
the dark veil of nightfall. On the platform, Don Ce- 
cilio, Juan's younger brother, greets me in courteous 



90 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

Spanish phrase, telling me that he throws himself at my 
feet (though he does no such thing !), and conducts me 
to the family carriage, — a large French barouche. On 
the box is a coachman in such magnificence of crimson 
and gold livery, and so pompous of mien, withal, that I 
am quite awed by the sight, although he lifts his hat on 
my appearance, and punctiliously holds it three inches 
above his cranium, until I have taken my seat. But he 
has the air of doing it as a specimen of finished deport- 
ment, and for artistic effect, rather than out of deference 
to anybody whomsoever. Then a rapid drive through 
the gas-lighted city shows me that Matanzas has 
many of the characteristics of Havana ; but the streets 
are wider and the general effect' lighter and more airy. 
Ere long, the carriage stops before the door of the Sam- 
anos, the stately Don Enrique himself hands me out, I 
am ushered into a large, brilliantly lighted sala, I under- 
go a confusing number of ceremonious introductions, and 
receive a corresponding amount of ceremonious Spanish 
welcome. The house and its contents are unreservedly 
placed at my disposal, and every member of the family 
(figuratively) kisses my hand, or is laid at my feet. I 
come out of it all with but one distinct impression, — 
that my hostess, Doiia Coloma, is by far the prettiest, 
most graceful, most spirituelle Oubana that I have yet 
seen. 

Now that some weeks of the quick, silent weaving of 
the threads of habit have wonted me to the place and peo- 
ple, it is* difficult to recall the strangeness, the bewilder- 
ment, the almost forlornness, of that first evening among 



FROM HAVANA TO MATANZAS. 91 

them, after Juan had gone forth in order to make sure 
that neither counting-house nor fixtures had run away 
during his absence, and I was left to my own slender re- 
sources for the further prosecution of the acquaintance. 
The Samanos knew no word of English, and my Span- 
ish, having chiefly been used for book intercourse hith- 
erto, was not sufficiently at my tongue's end to carry me 
very smoothly through a sustaine4 conversation with a 
roomful of strange people. So, after the most easy and 
obvious topics had been exhausted, I looked at them, 
and they looked at me ! and if Dona Coloma had not 
had a marvellous store of animated and expressive ges- 
tures at command, and an ease and grace of manner al- 
together perfect, the situation must have been awkward. 
But she smiled and nodded, and asked questions and 
helped me to answer them, and improvised small panto- 
mimes, and called upon the children to show me their 
accomplishments ; and one of them played, and another 
sang, and a third danced; and thus the evening wore 
on, not unsmoothly, until eleven o'clock ; at which very 
early hour, according to Cuban standards, I was allowed, 
in consideration of my travel-worn condition, to with- 
draw to my own room. If some shade of home-sickness 
met me there with the insidious question whether, after 
all, it was worth while to have come over the sea for 
three or four months of this sort of thing, it shall not 
dafken these pages. For the morning light dispelled it 
with other shadows ; and in that shape, it visited me no 
more. 



CHAPTER XI. 

EVEEY MORNING. 

• 

OCARCE a fortnight had elapsed, ere I felt myself 
thoroughly at home under the Samano roof, and 
life had settled to a regular and familiar flow. Pos- 
sibly there are those who would like to look closely 
into its quiet current, to know what the home-life of 
Cuba really is, what its occupations, its anxieties, its 
pleasures, its vexations, its courtesies. For such, I give, 
in this and the two following chapters, the history of a 
day — of any and every day ; for, with few exceptions, 
the faces of all are so much alike that it is hard to dis- 
cover any distinguishing trait. 

Scene opens about eight o'clock, A.M., in my room. 
As the occupant thereof is buried in a profound slumber, 
or steeped in the delightful languor of the very last 
morning nap, you will have time to examine the apart- 
ment and its furnishings, before the dramatis personal 
appear upon the stage. It is long and narrow in shape, 
and not less than twenty feet in height ; the open roof 
showing plainly all the beams and rafters used in' its 
construction. The floor is of quaint red and brown 
tiles, and there is a Turkey rug before the bed, put there 
since my advent, with some kindly intention, doubtless, 



EVERY MORNING. 93 

of an approximation to my former habits of life ; but I 
daily wish it were back w r here it- came from, the reason 
of which ungracious and ungrateful sentiment will ap- 
pear hereafter. The furniture looks meagre to an Amer- 
ican eye, and lacks many things deemed essential to 
comfort in homes now distant (geographically — but very 
present to my inner vision !) ; yet it is fully up to the 
Cuban standard, and comprises all that is necessary to 
tropical life ; where nature does so much for one's com- 
fort and pleasure that the shortcomings of art are easily 
forgiven. By way of compensation, there is a super- 
abundance of mere adornment, — the hangings, counter- 
pane, sheets, pillow-covers, valance, and even the towels ! 
being all elaborately trimmed with broad edgings and 
insertions of lace, of Catalonian manufacture, and often 
of fine quality. In this department, also, may be noticed 
a dingy figure of the Virgin, of such extremely unlovely 
and forbidding an aspect that the label underneath — 
"Madonna de la Misericordia" — seems absurdly mis- 
placed. 

At the east end of the room, facing the street, is a 
large window, of the usual quaint and clumsy con- 
struction of all Cuban wood-work. It opens on a sort 
of balcony, full fifteen feet wide, running across the 
front of the house, and overlooking market-place and 
bay. One end of this balcony is occupied by an aviary, 
densely populated with South American birds of bril- 
liant plumage, w^hose wild, piercing notes are among the 
first sounds that greet me in the morning. 

But the door opens. Enter Francisca, a young girl 



94 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

recently imported from the Canary Islands, and the only 
white servant in the honse — white, by courtesy, mark 
you, for there are really only degrees of dark in Cuba. 
This child of nature has a queenly figure, a majestic 
carriage, a bright face, and a voice as sweet as the birds 
of her native isle. Her morning greeting, considered as 
speech, is slovenly enough, being exceeding provincial ; 
but regarded as sound, it is fresh and clear as a song. 
She brings me a cup of fragrant coffee, with milk and 
sugar, imparts such items of domestic news as are 
already current, and vanishes. The coffee having been 
sipped slowly, as becomes its quality, I rise and betake 
myself to the chase — a regular morning pastime. Armed 
with a pin and a piece of thin muslin lightly wrung out 
in water, I proceed to turn over and examine carefully, 
one by one, all the garments which I removed the night 
previous ; hidden in the folds of which, hosts of blood- 
thirsty cannibals — known to the scientific world as Pulex 
irritcms, and vulgarly denominated fleas — are waiting, 
with exemplary patience, to be put on again this morning, 
and renew their banquet on human flesh. At the faint- 
est glimpse of a black speck, down goes the cloth with 
a vengeful slap ; which, being wet, embarrasses the 
motions of the insect, and, being thin, permits me to see 
its form distinctly enough to run it through with the pin, 
which I do, " with a will." But I have learned not to 
rely too confidently on its decease, even after this opera- 
tion ; having had the mortification, on several occasions, 
to see my captive, on the removal of cloth and pin, hop 
off as gayly as if nothing had happened to it. In this 



EVERY 3I0RNINQ. 95 

event, I pursue it through garments and across tiles ; 
and here appears the great inconvenience of the afore- 
mentioned rug, which is as discomfiting as a morass or 
a furze-field to a sportsman. If the flea strikes that, the 
chase is up, and the course of justice thwarted. I have 
grown learned in flea-lore, through this " sharp prac- 
tice ;" I think I could write a biography of one of the 
race, with great minuteness of detail and accuracy of 
facts. 

The operations of the toilet are sometimes still 
further retarded by the necessity of rubbing the starch 
out of any articles needed from the last week's wash. I 
have not yet succeeded in convincing Paula, the 
laundress, that when I say, " No starch," I mean pre- 
cisely that, and am prepared for no compromise what- 
soever. The Cuban practice is to starch all garments, 
without exception, to the utmost degree of stiffness. 
How they manage to wear them, I cannot imagine. The 
sensations of a foreigner are best described by a certain 
Herr Wagner that I met in Havana. "The first time 
that I sat down in a clean shirt from a Cuban laundry," 
said he, "I thought I must have landed on a pile of 
broken crockery. And when it became necessary to put 
on a Cubanized night-shirt, I sat up till two o'clock 
in the morning trying to rub the scratch and the crackle 
out of it. As for pocket-handkerchiefs, you might as 
well use sand-paper ! " 

Being dressed, I step out on the balcony, where I 
pray you to join me, for much may be seen from thence 
which is novel and interesting to unwonted eyes. Lean- 



96 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

ing over the parapet, — which is thick enough to stand a 
siege, and dates back to the last century, — you will see 
that the house fronts on a large open space, in the angle 
formed by the Bay of Matanzas, and the River San 
Juan. Over the way is a row of volantes, waiting to be 
hired ; in the middle is a string of packed mules, paus- 
ing to rest ; nearer, a half dozen'drays, piled with jerked 
beef from Buenos Ayres, or tobacco from* the famous 
" Vuelta Abajo," or wine and oil from Spain, are waiting 
to discharge their loads in the warehouses of " G. and 
Co." Farther along are an ox-cart and team ; the yoke 
is a clumsy wooden bar, laid on the animal's head, and 
tied to his horns by stout ropes ; the draft comes, there- 
fore, on the creature's horns and head, rather than on 
his shoulders; and he is guided by means of a long 
leathern thong, fastened into his nostrils. Soldiers, 
sailors, pateanos, coolies, and negroes, are continually 
passing, furnishing a gay and animated panorama for all 
eyes that gaze. Street-venders are plenty and pictur- 
esque. Yonder is a Chinese crockery peddler. His 
stock in trade is contained in two large round baskets, 
suspended from a kind of bamboo yoke on his shoulders. 
He calls attention to his wares, not by a cry, but by 
tossing in the air a half-dozen plates or saucers, and, by 
the sleight of hand peculiar to his race, causing them to 
fall one upon another as he catches them, with a sharp 
clash and clatter that is heard above everything else. 
Next comes a seller of dulces, — a neat-looking mulatto 
girl or negress, with a basket on her head and a tray in 
her hand, both filled with divers kinds of sweetmeats, 



EVERY MORNING. 97 

suited to the popular taste ; by the preparation and sale 
of which many decayed families support themselves, 
sending their only remaining servant into the street to 
dispose of them. After her comes a panadero, with a 
huge, flat, covered basket on his head, and two or three 
palm-leaf bags hanging on each arm. These are all filled 
with bread, in the form of rolls, of excellent quality ; 
which he is distributing to his regular customers. There 
is no such thing as home-made bread in Cuba: the 
bakers furnish an unobjectionable article, and deliver it 
fresh at the door every day. On the plantations, it is 
obtained from the nearest towns or railway stations. 
Next, you see an odd figure of a poultry dealer, from 
the country. He wears a hat like a small umbrella ; his 
shirt is of striped linen, and very likely, hangs outside 
of his pants ; he is perched on top of a large saddle 
and a small donkey, and flanked by two great panniers, 
out of which stick the heads of three or four dozen of 
live chickens. Yonder is a negress crying " JVaranjas ! 
nara?ijas, dulces ! " (sweet oranges) ; and another has a 
basket of fresh cocoa-nuts on her head. This latter fruit 
is always eaten here while the rind is yet green, and the 
pulp soft enough to allow of its being stirred up with 
the milk, and eaten with a spoon. It is said to be more 
wholesome thus, than in the shrunken and dried form in 
which it comes to us. 

One of the saddest of the street-sights is the chain- 
gang, on its way to the government works on the 
quays, — a long line of vicious or stolid faces, marching 
to the clank of the fetters which link them together in 
5 



98 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

forced and fearful companionship: one of the funniest 
is a patient little donkey, so thoroughly packed with 
green corn, fresh cut for feed, that you see nothing but 
a moving mass of verdure, reminding you of the 
" marching wood of Dunsinane ;" unless the animal is 
coming directly toward you, when you see his poor nose 
in the midst of a circle of dainty green, just out of his 
reach; and he might fitly parody the lament of the 
" Ancient mariner " something in this wise : — 

" Fodder— fodder everywhere 
And not a lit to eat." 

If you go to the farther end of the balcony, and 
look into the " Calle O'Reilly," you may see a small 
herd of cows standing at the side-entrance, and chewing 
the cud, while the driver milks one of their number. 
The first time I witnessed this, I inquired of my host if 
he kept cows. " No," he replied, " it is only the milk- 
man." I stared, and he explained that it is the custom, 
in Cuba, for venders of milk to drive their cows to the 
doors of their customers, and milk the quantity required, 
on the spot. I commend the practice to my own 
countrymen, nauseated with a deluge of stale or adulter- 
ated milk. 

At first, I found an infinite deal of amusement in 
this motley show, but already the charm of novelty is 
worn away, the quaint, graceful, or picturesque lines 
smoothed to the tameness and soberness of every-day 
life. But beyond it lies a view, of which one tires not 
so easily — the beautiful bay, with waters now blue, now 



EVERY MORNING. 99 

green — now heaving softly as the bosom of a sleeping 
maiden, now lashed by the north-wind into white, dash- 
ing crests of foam — now turned to molten gold by the 
sunshine, now lined with a silvery moonlight path 
that seems ready to take one to far-off, fabled islas 
encantaclas — always full of ships lying at anchor, — with 
flags and streamers of every nation and hue, and gayly 
painted sail-boats and lighters, and steamers plying in 
and out ; — a scene of brilliant and changeful hues, ever 
new and ever beautiful. Nor is this all. The bay is 
almost landlocked, and on either side stretch away 
green hills, crowned with white villas and gardens ; and 
into the dreamy distance drift groups of palms, and 
stand clear drawn against the morning's blue or the 
evening's pink and gold. Farthest of all — now veiled 
in mist, now clearly lit by the daybeams, now crimsoned 
and purpled with sunset lights and shadows — is the San 
Juan mountain, where my eyes rest last and longest 
as the most eligible point in the landscape whereon 
Thought can stand a-tiptoe, and strain her eyes over the 
blue ocean for just a faint glimpse of the dear ISTew 
England hills, which are fairer now than ever before, as 
seen through the golden medium of a " light that was 
never on sea nor land ! " It is good to sojourn, for a 
time, in a foreign country, — not only on account of the 
fresh sensations, the enlarged experience, the new veins 
of thought, which it opens to one, but to learn how 
much of life's sweetness is compressed into that little 
word "home." Cares and trials, it is true, enter its 
charmed circle ; so the rose has many thorns, yet is 
accounted fairest of all the flowers ! 



100 MY WINTER IX CUBA. 

At ten o'clock, the gentlemen come in. They rose 
early ; they partook of a cup of coffee and a thin cake 
or cracker, and went forth to the quays, the custom- 
house, the ware-rooms, the banks; for all out-door 
business is done, if possible, before breakfast, ere the 
day has reached its melting-mood. 

Breakfast is now served. It is decidedly d la 
fourchette. It might answer for dinner as well, by 
reason of the variety and substantial "nature of its dishes, 
except that it lacks soup and dessert. The first course 
is always fried eggs and boiled rice. This seems to be 
de rigueur ; after that, you may eat what you please and 
in your own order. Doubtless, there is "a beefsteak pie, 
mysteriously flavored; and there is certain to be a 
tortilla con seso, or brain-omelette. Chops are plastered 
with a mixture of eggs, herbs and olives, wrapped in 
paper, fried, and served with the wrappers still on. 
The stranger is often deceived by dishes which keep the 
look of old acquaintance to the eye, but break it to the 
taste. I was served, one morning, with what I took for 
codfish cakes, but which turned out to be a wonderful 
compound of chopped meat, raisins, tomatoes, eggs, 
onions, mashed potatoes, and I know not what beside ! 
I was unable to tell, after I had partaken of it, whether 
I liked it or no, and my mind is not more clear about it 
at this moment ! Fish are abundant and various. One 
kind enchants our eyes with all the colors of the rain- 
bow, the process of cooking not having in the least 
impaired the brilliancy of its prismatic adornments ; 
another is so minute that you wonder that people take 



EVERY MORNING. 101 

the trouble to catch and cook it, nor is the problem 
solved after you have eaten four or five at a mouthful. 

There is a decanter of wine and another of water, 
and a mixture of both is used. The glasses are a cross 
between tumblers and goblets, and are always placed 
on the table in finger-bowls, and remain there through- 
out the meal. Coffee is served at the end. 

The dining-room must needs be airy, for it is entirely 
open, on one side, to the sky and the court. There are 
jalousies, to be sure, but I never saw them closed. In 
one corner is a piece of mahogany furniture, in appear- 
ance half-safe and half-sideboard. Lifting the lid, a 
large hemispherical stone basin filled with water is 
disclosed, the bottom of which is pierced with a single 
minute hole. Opened in front, it reveals a stout stone 
jar, into which the water from the basin above trickles 
slowly, drop by drop ; also two or three fancy jars, 
with handles, for drinking purposes. Water thus 
filtered, is pure and palatable, and tolerably cool. The 
filterer is called an estellaclora, and a duplicate thereof 
may be found in nearly every house on the island. 

For the rest, the breakfast is merry and social, and 
bright with the faces of children. The Samanos all 
belong to the order of " born teases," and long practice 
has given them wonderful skill in the art of provocation, 
so that la senora leads rather a thorny life of it among 
them. They are Spaniards, and she a Cuban ; therefore, 
she is kept under a continual fire of jests and sarcasms, 
touching the language, customs, and character of her 
beloved compatriots. It is amusing to watch the little 



102 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

lady under this treatment ; at first she assumes an indif- 
ferent and supercilious style of demeanor, determined 
not to be teased; then she shrugs her shoulders, and 
gives an expressive little gesture, as if she were shaking 
off a shower of "paper pellets ; next her face begins to 
darken, and her eyes to expand, and finally, the bucket 
of her forbearance being overflowed by some particularly 
tantalizing " last drop," a flash of forked lightning 
darts from her black eyes, the words burst forth in a 
torrent, and indignant remonstrance, energetic retort, 
and expressive pantomime, are all marshalled into array 
to confront and confound her foes. I think she would 
have the best of it, if they were not so many ; but three 
against one, each with a characteristic and skilful mode 
of handling his weapons, is rather unequal odds. So 
the warfare goes on, until one after another of the 
assailants falls into paroxysms of uncontrollable laugh- 
ter, — the Senora stops in the middle of a sentence, and 
laughs too, and the skirmish is ended. 



CHAPTER Xn. 

DURING THE DAT. 

T3REAKFAST over, the working day begins. The 
Cuban ladies, having far less pretension to the 
name of " lilies " than their northern sisters, do likewise 
toil and spin, — using these words to describe all sorts of 
plain and fancy sewing, and especially, for an intermin- 
able process of pulling half the threads out of a piece 
of linen, and working over the remainder with an elabo- 
rate pattern of leaves and flowers ; which seems to be 
the very ne plus ultra of needle accomplishments, — be- 
ing taught in all the schools. So, unless I have letters 
to write, I join my hostess in her own or the adjoining" 
room ; and we sew and chat together, the stream of our 
conversation being subject to many interruptions from 
children and servants. Exactly how many of the latter 
there are I have not yet learned, as new faces are contin- 
ually meeting me in out-of-the-way corners ; but they 
are ugly, ignorant, good-natured, noisy, chattering crea- 
tures, with not even a "gloamin' sight" (as Andrew 
Fairservice would say) of the fact that there is a time 
to keep silence as well as a time to speak. They are 
continually dawdling about, in grotesque attitudes and 
absurd attire, producing many quaint pictorial effects ; 



104 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

and affording much amusement to visitors, and a corres- 
ponding amount of vexation and care to their employ- 
ers. One of them, Juana by name, and belonging to 
the African tribe of the Lucumis, is a continual study 
to me ; I am so sorely puzzled to decide exactly what 
nice degree of upward or downward gradation would 
place her on a level with the baboon. When not at 
work, she is usually found crouched in a corner making 
mouths at the wall, or grinning at her own huge, ill- 
shapen shoulder, which she has an apish way of slowly 
lifting out of her loose-fitting frock, following it closely 
with her eyes until it is on a level with her ear, and then 
letting it fall with a grunt, which performance often oc- 
cupies her pleasantly for a quarter of an hour at a time. 
If called, she answers in the harshest, most guttural, 
most unintelligible jargon conceivable, resembling more 
the cry of a bird of prey than the human voice. 

The cook is a Chinese, formerly one of the class 
known as Coolies ; whose sombre, discontented, mutin- 
ous faces meet one at every turn in the island, and stir 
the heart with indefinable pain and pity. Ricardo, how- 
ever, seems happy enough when he is in a good humor ; 
he served out his term of bondage years ago, and is now 
his own master, or, at least, may choose the whereabout 
and mode of his service. He fills other and more im- 
portant posts than his nominal one ; in reality lie is 
steward, butler, and housekeeper. The kitchen commu- 
nicates with the dining-room by a long staircase from 
the court, up and down which he travels fifty time's a 
day, in the regular discharge of his duties, but goes into 



DURING THE DAY. 105 

a tearing passion if, by any chance or mischance, the 
number is increased to fifty-one. And the rage of a 
Chinaman, be it understood, is unmatched for fire and in- 
tensity. The other servants, who quarrel among them- 
selves all day long by way of pleasant pastime, fly be- 
fore him, or huddle together like a flock of frightened 
sheep ; while he hurls among them threats and anathe- 
mas, like a shower of bombs, and apparently doing as 
good execution. If the uproar penetrates to the sake, 
or there seems to be danger that he may resort to other 
and more dangerous missiles, Kicardo is summoned before 
his mistress. In the attitude of a stage-hero, he listens 
to an eloquent compound of reprimand, remonstrance, 
entreaty, and gesticulation ; and departs humbled. If 
all else fails, a threat of dismissal immediately reduces 
him to order. It would break his heart to leave the 
family, — especially the children, all of whom have been 
born during his administration. Two or three years 
ago he was suddenly taken with a fit of discontent and 
would-be independence, and conducted himself in such 
a manner that, one morning, his wages were quietly 
paid him and he was told to go in peace. There was a 
mournful leave-taking of the little ones, a silent packing- 
up, and a moody departure. The day wore slowly away. 
At dusk, Dona Coloma was desired to look into the 
court. She beheld an affecting picture — in water colors. 
The central figure was Ricardo, on his knees and dis- 
solved in tears. Around him hung the children, also 
dissolved in tears. The negro servants filled up the 
background, likewise dissolved in tears. To avert an- 
5* 



106 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

other deluge, she bade him return to his old quarters, 
duties, and behavior ; which he did forthwith, greatly to 
the satisfaction of all parties. Doubtless, he is a fixture 
for life. 

One of my chief amusements is to lean over the gal- 
lery looking into the court, and watch Ricardo's prepa- 
rations for dinner. His method is certainly original. 
Just outside the kitchen is a long table for his conven- 
ience, over which hangs a double row of hats, of every 
shape, size, and hue, — straw hats, felt hats, silk hats, 
sailors' hats, farmers' hats, gentlemen's hats, ragged 
hats, brimless hats, crownless hats, black, white, and 
gray hats, — -gotten, heaven only knows where, but 
enough ! in number and variety, to stock a second-hand 
hat shop. Out from the little recess of a kitchen, red 
with the glow of a large furnace, rushes the Chinaman, 
hair flying and frying-pan in hand — slaps hat the first 
on his head with so furious a blow that it is a miracle 
he does not knock himself flat — dashes frying-pan on 
the table, and sprinkles the contents with salt — flies 
back to the fire, and gives a kettle a stir and a shake — 
darts out, seizes frying-pan with a flourish, and flings 
hat to the farthest corner of the court — dashes frying- 
pan on the fire, and stirs energetically for a moment — 
makes a dart at another hat, and puts it on — snatches a 
plate from a cupboard, and hurls it on the table care- 
fully! — reproduces frying-pan, and inverts it over 
plate — raises the dish to a level with his eyes, and 
surveys it critically — shakes his head disapprovingly, 
and sends hat the second spinning in the air — returns 



DURING THE DAY. 107 

the meat to the frying-pan and the pan to the fire, 
crowns himself majestically with hat the third, folds his 
arms and falls into a fit of abstraction — rouses him- 
self, produces a bake-pan, marches gravely into the 
middle of the court with it, examines the contents 
minutely, cuts a pigeon-wing of rapturous delight, and 
hurls his third piece of head-gear straight upward, 
which lodges on the roof — covers bake-pan, and dons hat 
the fourth — dives into depths of kitchen and reappears 
with a stew-pan containing vegetables — drains off the 
water on the pavement, hurls hat the fourth into the 
slop-barrel, and crowns himself with the next in order 
of succession — transfers vegetables to a dish — suddenly 
becomes conscious that he has transgressed a strict 
rule that no slops shall be emptied in the court, and 
makes a frantic rush at a towel — rapidly wipes up the 
steaming liquid, puts towel into his pocket, and springs 
up three feet with a yell — hastily pulls it out, and throws 
it, in company with hat the fifth, at the furnace, in a 
vein of severe irony, — brings out a soup-kettle, sets it 
down in the court, stirs it, tastes it, walks around it, 
shakes his head at it — flings hat the sixth at his head 
with extraordinary accuracy of aim — adds divers condi- 
ments to the soup and bears it to the fire — takes off his 
hat, looks into it solemnly for some minutes — appears to 
find what he seeks, for he puts it on again, and immedi- 
ately pours the soup into the tureen — dishes up some 
vegetables — takes tureen in both hands and commences 
mounting staircase to dining-room — becomes suddenly 
aware that he is still covered with hat the sixth, and, 



108 JVr WINTER IN CUBA. 

with a shake and a toss of the head, sends it rolling 
down the steps — places tureen on the table, and goes 
back for the other dishes — shouts for Francisca to come 
and help him, and shies hat the seventh at her as she 
descends the stairs; which performance goes on, with 
slight variations, until his whole assortment of head gear 
is strewn about court and gallery in curious confusion. 
Juan asserts that if he were deprived of his hats he 
could never serve the dinner creditably, and I am in- 
clined to receive the statement in perfect faith. 

At one o'clock, p.m., a certain dusky incarnation of 
probity, Atanasia by name (who may not only be 
trusted with untold gold, but will stand the severer test 
of being left in charge of unnoticed and nearly value- 
less trifles), gives a smarter set to her turban, shuffles 
out, and presently returns with a basket on her head, 
filled with fresh, yellow oranges, or ruddy bananas, and 
topped by panales. These last are a confection of eggs 
and sugar, made into white, frothy-looking bars, six or 
seven inches long, and designed to be dissolved in 
water, with a few drops of oil of annis, or the half of a 
lemon, which mixture makes an agreeable and nutritious 
beverage. Francisca peels the oranges as we do apples, 
sticks a bar of the panal in a goblet of water, and brings 
all to me, where I sit. This is our usual lunch, with 
only some slight variation in the article of fruit. The 
cashew, mamey, paw-paw, melado, citron-melon, guava, 
etc., offer us, now and then, a choice between acidity 
and insipidity; but none of them can institute any 
successful rivalry with the*sweetness and richness of the 



DURING THE DAY. 109 

orange and banana. The guava, though so great a 
favorite when made into jellies and marmalades, has, in 
its natural state, an intense flavor of rottenness, which 
nothing short of a long course of persevering and deter- 
mined effort, can bring a stranger to regard with aught 
but the extremity of disgust. 

The afternoon is so like the morning that you would 
be puzzled to distinguish one from the other, except for 
a slight increase of temperature, and a dimmer dreami- 
ness in the mood of the air. The servants dawdle over 
their avocations more sleepily than ever, rousing them- 
selves occasionally with a little quarrel ; and it is 
amusing to see how stately and courteous they become 
at such time, hurling " Senor " and " Sefiora " at each 
other, as if these titles were a new and efficient sort of 
missile. Dona Coloma has finished one piece of work, 
and taken another in hand, which she executes over a 
long heavy cushion, held across her knees ; bending 
over it with an industry and pertinacity wearisome to 
witness. What prevents her and her sister Cubans from 
stiffening into the shape of the letter Z, and growing to 
their chairs ! By way of killing time, I inquire what 
she is making. "A towel, for a birthday gift to a 
friend." Said towel being a strip of fine linen, about 
two yards long, across each end of which she is embroid- 
ering, by the pulling-out-of-threads process, a border six 
inches wide ; and which is further to be adorned with 
rows of lace. When finished, it will be hung, scarf- 
wise, across an ornamental knob, with which every 
Cuban bedroom is furnished. Regarded as an orna- 



110 3IT WINTER IN CUBA. 

ment, it is an extremely pretty thing ; but I recommend 
all persons given to much bathing, to provide themselves 
with a dozen thick, durable towels, before they accept of 
the hospitality of a Cuban roof; for nothing will there 
be furnished them for their abstersions, beside the above- 
described dainty, elaborate, altogether admirable, but 
highly unserviceable " toallaP 

Dona Mariquilla (a guest like myself) is busy with a 
sort of scarf, composed of alternate strips of muslin and 
embroidery, and edged with a frilling, of rich lace. 
Pursuing my investigations in her direction, I am told 
that it is a " sudario, for (as I understand it) un sefior ; " 
i. e., a gentleman. Whereupon I commune with myself, 
for a season, after this fashion. " Sudario — I wonder 
what that means ! Obviously, from the Latin siidarium, 
which signifies, primarily, a cloth for removing perspi- 
ration, and secondarily, any napkin or handkerchief. 
But this fanciful creation cannot be intended, even in 
the most remote and exceptional way, for any such 
service; neither can I conceive what possible use 'a 
gentleman ' can make of it." Completely puzzled, but 
not quite ready to confess my ignorance, I consult my 
Spanish dictionary, and learn that " sudario " implies 
" winding-sheet." Now, I have seen so many queerities 
in the way of costume, and such abundant evidence of 
the semi-barbarous taste of the Cubans for decoration 
and bedizenment, that it would not surprise me to 
behold a corpse decked out with marabout feathers 
and gold lace ; so I accept this definition in perfect faith. 
Composing my countenance, therefore, to a becoming 



DURING THE DAT. Ill 

degree of solemnity, I next inquire of Dona Mariquilla 
" if she has lost a near friend ? " She looks at me in 
great amazement, and I am forced to explain myself. 

" I understood you to say," I stammer, " that you 
were making that — sudario for a gentleman, and I pre- 
sumed it must needs be for some friend." 

" Oh ! " returns she, smiling, " I said it was for el 
Senor." 

Now " el Seftor " signifies "the Lord." A winding 
sheet for the Lord ! I seem to he innocently verging 
toward blasphemy. " Dona Mariquilla," I exclaim, in 
desperation, "will yon tell me precisely what a sudario 
is, and what it is for ! " 

Thereupon, the fat, good-natured, motherly lady, 
in wide-eyed wonder at the heathen darkness wherein 
I am groping, pours forth a voluble explanation that 
this term is applied, in Roman Catholic parlance, to the 
scarf which is usually wrapped around the loins of the 
figure of Christ, in the crucifixes, common to every 
house, and nearly every room, in Cuba. " She has one 
at home," she goes on enthusiastically, "a splendid 
one ! a very large one ! " (extending her arms wide to 
give me an idea of its size), "and as a labor of love, 
she is making a fine new sudario for it ; wherewith she 
shall adorn it with great ceremony, when she gets home, 
and invite her friends in to see how grand it is ! " 

Now, I am getting used to small images of this sort : 
there is one affixed to the wall of the room where we 
are sewing, at this moment — a bit of lead run in a 
mould, and then gilded — which excites no greater 



112 MT W1XTUR IN CUBA. 

emotion in my mind than what is, I fear, a very un- 
christian contempt for people who need such " helps to 
devotion." But when it comes to an ugly Horror of 
nearly life size, with thorns and nails delineated with 
pre-Raphaelite minuteness, great, red drops of blood, 
and a face of ghastly suffering, I am apt to turn sick at 
the sight, and make a rush for the nearest point of 
egress. Not that I do not realize, to the full, how 
good it is for us all to have our "blessed Redeemer's 
sufferings in continual remembrance, but not in that 
grossly material shape, — which seems to make of the 
cross merely a horrible instrument of human torture, 
and robs it of all spiritual significance, all infinite 
power, all ghostly comfort. Wherefore, Dona Mari- 
quilla, if your house is shadowed by the presence of 
such a nightmare of a crucifix, I retract, on the spot, 
my promise to visit it. I do not think I could sleep 
well under the same roof with so uncomfortable an 
inmate ; and to grow familiar with, and careless of, its 
dolorous aspect, would, it seems to me, be the worst 
calamity of all. 

My attention is next fastened on a ring, worn by 
Dona Mariquilla, the stone of which is so peculiar, in 
color and shape, that I beg to be allowed a closer 
inspection. According to Spanish custom, it is imme- 
diately placed " at my disposal " and its owner tells me, 
unsolicited, that it is made of the tooth of her father, 
which was extracted, to that end, after his death; 
in order that she might have a part of himself as a 
remembrancer! I restore the ring hurriedly, unde- 



DURING THE DAT. 113 

cided whether I am most horrified at the cool hardi- 
hood of the proceeding, as it first appears, or touched 
by a certain curious, dreary pathos and tenderness, 
which I discover to be latent therein. 

The entrance of the two little ones, Christinita and 
Rafael, creates a diversion. Both are stark naked — 
the day being very warm — except for a tolerably thick 
coating of the dirt from the court, where they have been 
playing. Have you any notion how excessively filthy 
a sullied naked child is ? Not the grimiest nastiness of 
rags and tatters is at all comparable to it. Neverthe- 
less, Christinita (who has a fancy for me) stretches up 
her chubby arms and insists on being taken, with such 
absolute confidence in my reciprocity, such entire faith 
that she is going to be fondled and made much of, that 
no human heart not wholly incrusted with stone, can 
balk her expectation. So I swallow my disgust, and 
take her on my lap, to rehearse the one English word 
which I have taught her — " Pretty." Odila, cetat five, 
knows several, only she has a curious knack at misplac- 
ing them — invariably saluting me with " Good by, sir ; " 
by way of morning greeting and emphatically pro- 
nouncing things " all r-right " (with a preternatural roll 
of the r) which she knows to be decidedly all wrong. 
She can sing "Yankee Doodle," too, which she has 
caught from Juan's habitual whistle, and which she ac- 
companies with a queer, comic, impromptu dance ; for 
Odila is a cross between fairy and imp, gifted with a 
marvellous spontaneity of prank and caper, and can 
dance in perfect time and character with whatever music 



114 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

is played before her. . She is also a child of many moods, 
and of curiously extravagant expressions. In her happy 
moments, she accords me a high place in her affections, 
covering my hands, the hem of my robe — my feet even, 
if she can get at them — with rapturous kisses, treating 
my shawl, books, and other belongings, to enthusiastic 
hugs, and calling me her " angel" her " amada" her 
"linda lindisima" — when "presto, change!" — some- 
thing goes wrong, and my devoted little admirer be- 
comes a furious little demon, who stands, Samson-like, 
clasping the stone pillars of the corridor, and wishing 
she could pull the roof down on my head and her own ! 

With her comes her shadow — an exceeding black 
one ! It is round, grave, staring, and good-natured ; it 
is aged five ; it is called Ramona ; it is the child of 
Atanasia. It follows its little mistress everywhere, 
shares her playthings, her candies, her scrapes, and her 
punishments ; accepts her caresses and her blows with 
the same placid satisfaction ; and never makes moan nor 
murmur till bedtime brings the one thing unendurable, 
— namely, separation, — whereupon, it sets up a howl that 
almost raises the roof. 

The children are soon engaged in a game of romps, 
and the foreign observer is confounded by their fre- 
quent use of the Sacred Name, — " Dios mio ! " being 
the common expletive of small creatures who can scarce- 
ly utter it plainly. Before I well know what I am about, 
I am telling their mother how careful Christian people 
are, in my own country, to instruct their children to 
avoid such profanity, and how Society has taken the 



DURING THE DAY. 115 

matter in hand, for those who are not Christians, and 
made it a rudeness to swear in her courts. 

She looks at me wonderingly, and says, " They are 
good words, are they not? Why shouldn't we say 
them ! " 

A way of looking at the subject which would never 
have occurred to me ! 

It is now time for the two oldest daughters of the 
house to return from school. But not alone, — public 
opinion would condemn that, though the school were on 
the next block. Atanasia is sent to act as their duenna ; 
also, to bring back on her head, even as she carried it 
forth this morning, a clumsy little chest containing their 
slates, books, school aprons, and needle- work, the key 
of which hangs by a ribbon from Dolorita's neck. Put- 
ting a question or two with regard to the school's cur- 
riculum^ I find it rather limited. Reading, writing, a 
little arithmetic, and less geography, are counted all- 
sufficient for girls! If more is insisted upon, a skim- 
ming of grammar can be had. " "What possible use can 
they make of anything farther, unless they are to 
teach ?'" asks Dona Coloma. " Of course, we give them 
all needful accomplishments." 

Apropos to which, Dolorita's music-master bows him- 
self in. That stately young lady of ten summers has 
; been diligently practising her piano-lesson (hitherto un- 
touched) for the last fifteen minutes, in expectation of 
his arrival. With outward patience, he endures a half- 
hour of blunders and discords that must give him an in- 
ward lockjaw. Thus far, the music-lesson might do as 



116 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

well for Boston as Matanzas ; but now comes a varia- 
tion. He seats himself at the piano, and strikes the 
chords of the piece that Dolorita has just played, be it 
finger-exercise, waltz, study, pastorale, or what not ; 
and she sings it, in a high, thin voice, but in passable 
time and tune, making use of the syllables, — fa, sol, la, 
fa, sol, la, mi, fa; — in which performance the remaining 
half-hour is consumed. And this curious repetition of 
the piano-lesson with the voice is a regular thing ; no 
matter how ill-adapted for singing the exercises may be, 
nor how far they transcend the compass of the child's 
voice, — though the latter difficulty is partially overcome 
by singing the notes an octave or two lower. I am un- 
able to divine what is the object of this very peculiar 
musical training. 



CHAPTER XIU. 

EVERY EVENING. 

A T four p.m., Ricardo appears before his mistress, 
strikes an attitude, and announces dinner. As the 
roof which shelters me is in the constant exercise of the 
largest, most generous hospitality, and no amount of 
unexpected company could cause any embarrassment 
where the daily bill of fare is as varied and as bountiful 
as ours ; I may venture on the liberty of inviting you 
all to dine with me — after I have whispered in your ear 
a timely warning. " Look not long into the soup, though 
it be golden with saffron, neither linger with the pilau 
of chicken, neither disport thyself greatly among the 
vegetables dearest to thy heart ; for more things are to 
come after than were ever dreamt of in any other philos- 
ophy of dinner than the Cuban, and the guests are 
expected to taste, at least, of all : therefore it behooves 
them not to partake to their special delectation, of any ; 
but to walk daintily and discreetly among the good 
things provided, lest they be filled to repletion, ere they 
are aware, and be compelled to choose, finally, between 
the Scylla and Charybdis of bursting themselves or 
offending their host." 

Fortunately, the dishes are all placed on the table at 



118 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

the outset, so one has the advantage of seeing what is 
expected of him. Soup, colored and flavored with 
saffron, comes first, of course ; then the meat and vege- 
tables boiled in the soup, — among which you will notice 
bananas, or plantains, with the skins on; then salad. 
Next come stews, in endless variety; then eggs, in 
omelets ; then vegetables ; then infinitesimal roasts. 
Yonder seems to be a meat-pie ; try it, by all means, 
and see what you can make of the contents. " Chicken- 
pork — tomatoes — onions — peppers — hard-boiled eggs — 
almonds — raisins" — you stop confounded, "clams!" 
(certainly, why not ?) — " olives ! " — and here you get 
bewildered, and give up the investigation, wondering 
what is not in a Cuban pie ! Taste the green peas, 
stewed with tomatoes and eggs ; the string beans, 
dressed like salad ; the baked beans, mixed with shrimps 
or sausages. These things are to be eaten in course, and 
your plate is shifted for every one. For drink, you will 
have Catalonian wine, of undoubted purity; and the 
Spaniards always mix it with water. Now comes the 
fish, which has a different place in the Spanish meal, you 
see, from that which it occupies in ours. There are 
several varieties ; among them you will notice our rain- 
bow-hued friend of the morning, which, in its border of 
green leaves, is a study fit for the pencil of Claude Lor- 
raine. Our host inquires if you will take " bacalao" 
which somebody explains is codfish; and feeling quite 
certain of your ground, you acquiesce, and receive upon 
your plate a thick, dark, greasy mass, wherein the cod- 
fish is so masked by oil, tomatoes, and the eternal saffron 



EVERY EVENING. 119 

(which is one ingredient of all Cuban soups and stews) 
that you will fail to recognize it as an old acquaintance. 

Having steered warily through all these (and many 
more, of which I spare you the full catalogue), you feel 
yourself at peace with the world, and ready for the 
dessert. First, we have preserves, all new to us, but all 
most delicious ; then confectionery ; lastly, fruits. Then 
the table is cleared, and coffee is brought ; so also is a 
silver dish of lighted coals, called a ca?idela, and a bun- 
dle of cigars. The master of the house lights one for 
himself, and passes the bundle to his next neighbor. 
Smoking is the one thing, which, in Cuba, momentarily 
reduces all classes to a level. The coachman may ask 
his master for " a light," the slave his driver, the soldier 
his general-in-chief, and it is never refused ; and a mere 
wave of the hand is sufficient, by way of thanks. Now, 
if you dislike smoking as much as I do, you will make 
your escape, returning thanks, generally, for what you 
have eaten, and particularly, that you have been asked 
to eat no more, for the extremest limit of human capacity 
has been reached. 

The next act of our day-drama is to come off out of 
doors, to my great gratification. The almost constant 
confinement within doors, to which the softer sex is con- 
demned in Cuba, is extremely trying to foreigners, accus- 
tomed to more freedom, and who have not, moreover, 
the powerful and absorbing attraction of domestic cares 
and duties to keep them steady within so contracted an 
orbit. Now and then I get mutinous, and threaten to 
go out and explore the city and suburbs by myself, on 



120 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

foot ; but Juan shakes his head gravely, and asserts that 
I shall repent of it, in dust and ashes, if I do ; and his 
sister looks profoundly disgusted at the mere mention of 
such a thing. So, by way of apis-aller, I pace furiously 
back and forth, from the front balcony, through sala, 
dining-room, gallery, open passage, and laundry, making 
divers circuits to avoid prostrate children and babies, 
white and black, and encouraged by the plaudits of 
half the household, gathered to witness the perform- 
ance ; for a Cuban is unable to conceive of motion for 
the mere sake of motion, and is disposed to regard as a 
fool any one who prefers to walk when he can sit, and 
as very far gone in idiocy if he chooses to sit when he 
can lounge or lie down. 

But the carriage waits. Dona Coloma in delicate 
pina, Doiia Mariquilla in black grenadine, Odila in white 
muslin and scarlet ribbons, the three-year-old Rafael in 
the gorgeous uniform of a colonel in the Spanish army, 
and myself, descend to the piazza ; and are handed into 
the vehicle by Don Enrique, or Don Cecilio, or Juan, 
one of whom leaves the counting-house to render us that 
polite attention, and returns thither as soon as it is paid. 

The senora directs her coachman in clear, bird-like 
tones, which pierce through the rattle and clangor of 
the vehicle. " Dobla al derecho, Amavedo ! " she cries, 
and we go to the right ; "Al izquierda, Amavedo I dobla 
al izquierda / " and we turn to the left with a lurch that 
unseats us all, and makes it doubtful, for a moment, 
whether we are in the carriage or out. But this is only 
a cross-street, with a pavement that seems to have re- 



EVERT EVENING. 121 

cently sustained the shock of an earthquake ; by and by, 
we shall have smoother going. 

First, we drive to the " Paseo de Versailles," which 
is even finer than that of " Tacon " at Havana, inasmuch 
as it lies along the margin of the bay, commanding a 
view of the shining water, the ships at anchor, and the 
encircling hills. On the left is the Campo de Marte, 
where a battalion of soldiers, in gay uniforms, are going 
through with their evolutions ; and at the end are the 
castle and fort of San Severino. 

Here, all Matanzas is to be seen at this hour, driving 
up and down and around, exchanging nods and greetings 
with acquaintances, and closely observing whatever for- 
eign element presents itself. It is a brilliant and striking 
scene ; yet it grows tiresome, taken as a regular dose, — 
the same scenery, the same soldiers drilling, the same 
people, day after day, with no variation except in the 
toilets. So, now and then, I petition my companion to 
leave the paseo, after a few turns, and go a little way up 
the bank of the Yumuri or the San Juan ; both of which 
rivers run through the city, and give to certain quarters 
of it a Venice-like character. Or. we drive out to the 
play a, a delightful strip of sand-beach on the south side 
of the bay, where the children and I gather shells while 
la senora waits and dozes in the carriage. But it is plain 
that she finds it dull pastime, and I care not to take her 
too often out of the groove wherein her life has run so 
long, that it runs not satisfactorily elsewhere. Most fre- 
quently we remain in the paseo until it is nearly dark, 
when we follow the soldiers out on their march to quar- 
6 



122 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

ters, see them defile in, while the band plays its last 
piece, and then go home to prepare for the retreta. 

This takes place in the "Plaza de Armas," a very 
handsome square, laid out with walks, palms, and fra- 
grant shrubs and flowers. In the centre is the inevitable 
statue of some one of that succession of Ferdinands (I 
believe it is the seventh), under whose auspices Spain 
went so steadily down hill for four centuries, that she 
finds it difficult to turn about and ascend, even now. On 
the east side is the residence of the Comanclante, or 
governor of the department ; on the north is the Z,iceo, 
a mixture of lyceum and club-house, and the remaining 
sides are filled with handsome dwellings and shops. 

Eighteen years ago, in this square — so calm, so fair, 
in its silver moonlight dress — fell Gabriel Concejycion de 
la Valdez, a mulatto, a patriot, and one of the very few 
popular poets of Cuba. He was accused of taking an 
active share in that wide-spread movement of the slaves 
to gain their freedom, which sent such a thrill of terror 
throughout the island in 1 844. He was tried, condemned, 
and sentenced to be shot. It is related that the first 
volley failed to touch any mortal part, and the brave 
victim, bleeding from several wounds, but erect and 
undismayed, pointed to his head : "Aim Itere" said he, 
with as steady a voice as if commanding a battalion. 
The order was obeyed, and the second volley sent the 
strong, heroic, yet tender soul, to a land where, we may 
trust, it found gentler judgment for its errors, and wider 
scope for its talents, than in that which gave it birth. 

However, no shadow of that tragedy lingers here to- 



EVERY EVENING. 123 

night. All around the enclosure is a broad pavement, 
lined on either side with gas-lights and seats for specta- 
tors. Outside of these are the volantes and quitrins, 
closely wedged together, and filled with the beautiful 
Matanzeras. The band is stationed at the foot of the 
white statue, sprinkling the air with sweet sounds, even 
as the flowers sprinkle it with sweet odors. Overhead 
are the palms and the stars. It would be hard to find a 
fairer, gayer scene. 

The etiquette of Matanzas, less rigid in this particular 
than that of Havana, allows ladies to alight from their 
volantes, if they like, and take a turn or two around the 
square, if duly escorted by father, or brother, or hus- 
band. You see scores of them, therefore, walking round 
and round, with that graceful, undulating motion pecu- 
liar to Cuban women, and pausing, now and then, to 
rest upon the seats. They are dressed as for an evening 
party, — long trains of sheer muslin, or sheeny silk, sweep 
the pavement — bright sashes wave — -jewels glisten — pol- 
ished shoulders gleam white by gas-light, and rows of 
gentlemen stare and comment as they list. It seems to 
us a very public exhibition, and a little inconsistent with 
the strictness of Cuban customs in other matters. 

At nine o'clock the music closes with the celebrated 
Cuban dance, — a strange, monotonous, half wild and 
half sad melody, which makes you doubtful whether it 
was intended to set you dancing madly, or to lull you to 
a dreamy sleep. The Cubans, however, seem not to be 
troubled by any such question ; you can see that their feet 
involuntarily keep time to the music, and I am told that, 



124 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

at their balls, the sound of this favorite dance rouses the 
most languid of them into a sudden enthusiasm and 
intoxication of dancing. This over, the band marches 
away to the sound of its own music, the volantes rattle 
off, and the show is ended. Some of the promenaders 
linger a while, if the evening is fine ; others go to the 
"Loume" to eat an ice with barquillos, or take a cup of 
coffee, and then the Plaza is left to the moonlight, and 
the sentinels guarding the palace. 

Very often, we go from the retreta, to pass an hour 
at the house of another branch of the Samano family, 
residing in the city. This abode shall be briefly described, 
not as anything exceptional, but as a fair specimen of 
an average Cuban city dwelling. 

The marble floor of the hall is on a level with the 
stone pavement of the street, and would join it but for 
a somewhat elevated door-sill. Stepping over this, the 
first object that confronts your astounded gaze is the 
quitri?i, — elegantly trimmed and glistening with silver- 
plate, it is true; but still, giving you the impression 
that, by mistake, you are entering the house through the 
stable! Between this hall and the sala is an arched 
opening, closed by a light iron-grating, — the quitrin, 
therefore, is always in sight ; indeed, in some cases there 
is no division whatever, and the vehicle occupies one 
end of the apartment in stately grandeur, but the room 
is so vast that it is not in the way. Back of the parlor 
is the dining-room, through which the horses are taken 
to the stables in the rear of the court; their hoofs 
striking sharply on the stone floor, and convincing the 



EVERY EVENING. 125 

foreign observer that there are many good reasons for 
the lack of carpets in Cuba ! I have had the pleasure 
of witnessing this performance many times, with much 
inward amusement, as you may imagine, and congratu- 
lating myself, meanwhile, that my countenance is not 
always the mirror of my thoughts. 

Back of the dining-room is the court, over which an 
awning is drawn during the heat of the day ; and in which 
a few roses, lemon-trees, and vines, are growing, giving 
it a cheerful touch of greenery and blossom. Upon it the 
doors of the sleeping rooms open. All are on one level. 
It is not unusual to see one end of the court roofed over, 
to serve as a dining-room. 

The large windows of the sala are raised one step 
from the floor, strongly iron-grated, and project about 
a foot into the street, affording an unobstructed look 
out, and an equally unobstructed look in. If you are 
passing outside, you often see the sefloras and seiloritas 
standing in these, and gazing at the outer world through 
the iron bars ; with so much of the aspect of prisoners, 
that, at first, it makes you melancholy to look at them. 
You fancy that they suffer from the tyrannous restraints 
of their social customs, and are longing to escape. 
Your compassion is utterly wasted. I do not believe 
the desire to " get out," except in a volante to the paseo 
or the retreta, ever enters the Cuban feminine mind. 

Entering the sala you will find its furniture sepa- 
rated by magnificent distances. There is a fine Erard 
piano, a cane-seated sofa, two or three tables, and a few 
good pictures. There is also in the middle of the room 



126 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

a double row of chairs (chiefly rockers) facing each 
other, and with just space enough to pass between 
them; and you will suspect that the children were 
enjoying a game of cross-questions when you entered, 
and there was no time to set things, to rights. But it is 
the universal arrangement, and you will find it in every 
sola on the island. The gentlemen are expected to take 
one row, and the ladies the opposite one, unless there is 
a disproportionate number of either sex, which makes it 
necessary to encroach upon »the space allotted to the 
other. Never take a seat elsewhere — you will commit 
an almost unpardonable breach of decorum, — but if the 
row is too short to accommodate a sudden influx of 
visitors, a servant will straightway piece it out to the 
required length. 

A cellar-like dampness pervades most of the apart- 
ments, and I am glad that the lines have fallen to me in 
a dwelling of a different sort ; for Don Enrique, like 
many Cuban merchants, lives over his counting-room 
and warehouses, nor thinks his social standing at all 
lowered by his so doing. Indeed, the Captain-General 
himself must needs live over the government offices 
when he is in town ; and of all curious Cuban combina- 
tions, perhaps not the least curious are the very common 
ones of elegant mansions with busy warehouses. 

At the Samano reunions, we all sit in the inevitable 
double row of chairs, in the middle of the sala, in full 
view of the street, and rock and talk at each other at 
about an equal rate of velocity. Sometimes, I am fain 
to pass off my knowledge of Spanish for something even 



EVERY EVENING. 12 Y 

less than it is, in order to escape from the weariness of 
being civil and sociable in a foreign tongue, and to be 
free to use my eyes and ears to the best advantage. 

In one thing, the Cubans are less formal than we : 
the use of the Christian name among friends and 
acquaintances is universal, and also of the diminutives 
" ito " and " ita" " Don" and " Dona " are prefixed 
where a little more formality is desired. "jSenor " and 
"senora" are used, alone, precisely as we use "sir" 
and " ma'am " : they are allied to the surname when it 
becomes necessary to distinguish which " Don Juan " or 
" Dona Maria " is meant, or on occasions of extreme for- 
mality. For formal introductions, and superscriptions 
to letters, both titles are used, thus ; — Senor Don Juan 
Samano," " Senora Dona Maria Samano." Very likely, 
the latter would sign herself " Maria Degran, de Sa- 
mano, — Legran being her maiden name, — and you 
would be quite safe in addressing her accordingly. To 
an unmarried lady senora takes the place of seftorita, 
but Dona applies to both married and single. 

In the circle whereof I write, my own Christian name 
is already current, but so disguised by the prefix 
"Dona," and the suffix " ita," and the Spanish pronun- 
ciation of the initial letter, that I find some difficulty 
in recognizing it as one of my belongings. 

Listening to the talk around me, I am struck by a 
peculiar, rising inflection at the end of every sentence, 
and clause of a sentence ; tantamount to a note of 
interrogation. Senora Arcila, moreover, introduces a 
questioning " eh ? " between every particular of the 



128 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

remarks she is addressing to me, which seems to say, 
" Do you understand it ? can you believe it ? " the 
whole running something as follows : 

" You see her uncle wanted to marry her, eh ? and 
the Bishop of Havana forbade it, eh? and so they 
sailed yesterday for the United States, eh? and they 
will doubtless get it done there, if they pay hand- 
somely, eh ? " 

I venture to express my surprise that there should 
be any question of marriage where there is such con- 
sanguinity. Unto which she replies : " Why, I mar- 
.ried my own uncle, eh ? did you not know it, eh ? We 
had a dispensation from the Pope, eh ? — paid three 
thousand dollars for it, eh ? " — and so on, until I am 
ready to cry out, " Yes, yes, I believe it all and ten 
times more, if you like ; only do talk like a Christian, and 
not keep me nodding, after the manner of a Chinese 
mandarin, with that eternal ' eh ! ' " 

An odd, wizened, Don-Quixotic figure now enters, 
leaning on a gold-headed cane, and bowing to the 
ground. He is presented to the foreign lady with 
empreasement, as Senor Don Miguel Santamaria. She 
has heard of him before. He is remarkable, dietetically, 
for having drunken nothing but cocoa-nut water (or 
milk, as some call it) for twenty years ; and intellectual- 
ly, as having written and published a book in praise of 
that beverage, — also several poems. Somebody suggests 
that he shall recite one of the latter for her delectation. 
He does so, with a passion of emphasis and an energy 
of gesticulation that are — to say the least of them — 



EVERT EVENING. 129 

supererogatory. Some one then mischievously hints to 
him that she has been known to string rhymes together. 
Whereupon he lays his hand upon his mellow old heart, 
and looking more Don-Quixotic than ever, protests that, 
though he has often desired to know English, never did 
he desire it so ardently as now, that he might have the 
inexpressible pleasure of hearing her recite some of her 
" versos," in return for his. Soon after, he casts himself 
at her adorable little feet, kisses the hands of the mis- 
tress of the mansion, and elaborately bows himself out 
of the room. 

Immediately, the roguish young Don Ruperto gravely 
gives a perfect imitation of the old gentleman's voice- 
and manner, even to the recitation of some of his verses, 
and a wonderful fac-simile of his ceremonious departure. 
Everybody laughs, but the mimic's mother, — she scolds." 
Such treatment of their late visitor "is vergonzoso / — it 
is escandoloso y — it is everything that is disgraceful and 
discourteous ! " So it is ; but it is also very amusing. 

"We are also entertained with music. Mercedes — the 
eldest daughter of the house — plays exquisitely. Her 
audience is not confined to the sala; an appreciative 
group gathers outside .the window, and listens atten- 
tively to the end. Every hat is then lifted, a low, but 
emphatic " Gracias " is heard, possibly a compliment, 
or two, to the young lady's talent and beauty follows ; 
then the group scatters. Perhaps she acknowledges 
this tribute by a slight bow ; perhaps not ; it doesn't 
matter either way. 

On one occasion, the lady of the house is excused 



130 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

from seeing us on the plea that she is " suffering from the 
quarrel between the Bishop and the Captain-General." 
I don't quite see how that can be a personal calamity, 
and Dona Coloma explains to my puzzled face that it is a 
Cuban custom to name epidemic colds after some recent 
national or local misfortune. The last wreck, or pow- 
der-mill explosion, or a possible invasion of jilibusteros, 
or the resignation of a government official, is assigned 
as the reason why your friend denies himself to you ; 
which is to be understood as a pleasant way of saying 
that he has an influenza. 

If we spend our evenings at home, there is some- 
times a rustle on the staircase at a late hour, and in 
flutters a bevy of bright dresses and glistening fans ; the 
toilets and their wearers being fresh from the retreta. 
Children accompany their mammas, decked out in floun- 
ces and white satin boots, and manage their fans and 
eyes w^ith nearly as much skill. There are no introduc- 
tions ; but those who meet in a friend's house enter into 
conversation without that formality, and need not recog- 
nize each other when they meet again, unless they 
choose. Introductions are seldom given, without first 
having asked the consent of both parties. 

At ten, there is an informal supper of 2^>cicienzas (a 
kind of hard biscuits) and wine, for those who like it, 
and the day is over. Step out on the balcony with me, 
and take a last look at the phantom ships on a silver sea 
before us, and the " Southern Cross," gleaming on the 
horizon's utmost rim, and spiritualized by its legend of 
"In hoc sic/no, vinces" — and so, good night ! 



CHAPTER XIV. 

THE VALLEY OF YUMURI. 

/^V OCCASIONALLY, the foregoing programme is va- 
ried by excursions to points of interest in the 
vicinity. Among them, that to the valley of Yumuri 
stands preeminent. It is said to be the loveliest spot in 
all Cuba. It has been likened to the " Happy Valley " 
of Rasselas, and the " Valley of Delight " of Rafi-Eddin. 
It is declared that he who is not quite ready to yield up 
his mortal breath at, sight of the bay of Naples, at once 
succumbs to the valley of Yumuri. All of which it is 
as well to believe. The tourist should have large faith. 
The valley takes its name from the river flowing 
through it. The latter, tradition affirms, was- called 
Yumuri — which signifies "I die" — in commemoration 
of the last words of a certain Indian, who was drowned 
in its waters by the upsetting of his canoe. This also 
the tourist will believe, though the river's current is 
neither rapid nor deep. For the name is soft and 
musical, and even this bit of a legend gives a kind of 
historic interest to the stream ; inasmuch as the said 
Indian must have been one of that gentle and simple 
race which welcomed Columbus to these shores as a god, 



132 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

and which the Spaniard thereafter enslaved and exter- 
minated. 

Besides you and me, dear reader, the party will 
consist of my hostess, and other members of the family, 
Mrs. and Miss R. (recently arrived from Havana for the 
purpose), and several invited guests. The gentlemen 
and Miss R. are to go on horseback, the rest in volantes; 
for we are told that no carriage could stand the rough- 
ness of the road by which we are to travel. You and I 
are a little surprised at this, not yet seeing what advan- 
tage those cumbrous, noisy, swaying vehicles, whereat 
we have laughed so much, can possess over a good 
carriage ; but we shall be wiser ere our expedition is 
finished. 

We were to have started at three o'clock, but delay 
seems always to be the first thing on the programme 
where a large party is to be gotten off; and it is nearly 
four when we descend, to find the saddle-horses stand- 
ing on the stone floor of. the piazza, each held by a 
swarthy, bright-eyed, half-clad boy, and the volantes 
drawn up outside. Here, an unforeseen difficulty occurs. 
The saddle intended for Miss R. is discovered to have 
the horn and stirrup on the right side, according to 
universal Cuban custom ; and she very naturally doubts 
her ability to ride in such unwonted fashion. However, 
she is persuaded to mount and give it a trial. Mrs. R. 
and I are handed into a volante, the gentlemen spring 
to the saddle, the servants, porters, grooms, etc., as- 
sembled to watch " las' Americanos" wave courteous 
adieux, and we are off. 



THE VALLEY OF YUMURI. 133 

Don Enrique leads the way, on a handsome black 
horse, which he rides like the accomplished gentleman 
that he is ; a certain powerfully framed, black-bearded, 
and black-browed Capitan Garcia, of Castilian birth, 
takes a position on the right of our own volante, by 
way of escort to the foreign ladies ; and Miss R., 
Juan, and Cecilio, fall into the rear, choosing to take a 
slow pace until the lady gets accustomed to her saddle. 
We lose sight of her at the first corner — rattle briskly 
through the city — cross the bridge — pass the barracks, 
the hospital, and two or three handsome suburban 
villas, — and then, commence the slow, rough, toilsome 
ascent of the " Cumbre." Ere long, we are high 
enough to overlook the rear road for some distance, but 
our horsewoman and her escort do not appear; and 
Mrs. R. begs me (for she speaks no Spanish) to inquire 
the probable cause of the delay. Questions and sur- 
mises follow, and a halt is ordered till the loiterers shall 
arrive. Meantime, we enjoy the view, which is already 
very beautiful — the square blocks of the horse-shoe 
shaped city, with its pair of shining rivers — the bay and 
shipping glowing in the rays of the westering sun — 
the neighboring hills and distant mountains — and afar, 
the blue waves and white sails of the boundless ocean. 

"We take ample time to study all these details ; still 
our friends do not appear. I inquire if they may not 
have taken some other road, and am told that there is 
no other road, — a piece of information which I do not 
deem it necessary to impart to my trembling companion, 
who is clinging to that last hope. Neither do I think it 



134 MY WINTER IN CUBA, 

expedient to utter my involuntary inward comment, 
that " one such is enough " : a road like this in the 
immediate vicinity of a city of forty thousand inhabi- 
tants, speaks more pointedly of the indolence and sloth 
of the Cubans, in matters not directly related to the 
making of money, than anything I could say. At 
length Don Enrique grows impatient and uneasy, and 
sets off, at a hand-gallop, to solve the mystery; re- 
appearing again in a short time, to say that Miss R., 
finding herself unable to ride in such reverse fashion, 
has wisely returned to the house, and will follow us as 
soon as another volante can be found. Satisfied with 
this explanation, the cavalcade again moves on. 

Our way is still upward, and the road grows rough 
in tolerably exact proportion to the rate of ascent. 
Gullies yawn beside us ; rolling stones give very inse- 
cure footing for the horses ; rocks heave up like billows 
and lift us on their brown shoulders ; and my respect 
for the volantes grows with every revolution of the 
enormous wheels. Being so large, they pass easily over 
the irregularities of the road ; being so strong, they are 
not readily broken ; while the distance of the horse 
from the vehicle gives one a pleasant assurance of 
security from his heels, in case he goes down — a danger 
which seems imminent, at times. My sympathy for the 
hard- worked animal, however, increases in the ratio of 
my respect for the volante / he toils, pants, and stumbles 
on, dripping with perspiration, while his companion, 
whose share of the labor is limited to carrying the pos- 
tilion, steps easily and jauntily, making one to see that, 



THE VALLEY OF TUMURI. 135 

even to horses, the good things of this life are unevenly- 
distributed. I bethink myself that Bishop Butler half 
admits that his masterly argument for the immortality 
of man applies as well to animals ; and am soon lost in a 
wild maze of speculation as to how much the admission 
may be good for, and whether the Indian is so far wrong 
in believing that his horse and hound will share his 
Paradise, — when Mrs. R. recalls my wandering thoughts, 
and points to a cactus-crowned wall which we are 
passing. 

The variety of these prickly plants growing thereon 
is really wonderful ; and they seem to form quite as 
effectual a barrier against intrusion as the broken glass 
and iron spikes often used for the same purpose. The 
grounds thus enclosed are radiant with oleanders, pome- 
granites, and other brilliant flowering shrubs \ while 
oranges, bananas and cocoa nuts tempt one, by their 
luscious profusion, to wish that laws respecting "3Teum 
and Tuum" had never been framed. So we trot on, 
up hill and down vale, passing several small " hacien- 
das" or plantations, — past sugar-cane fields, pine-apple 
gardens, palm avenues, and mahogany trees, until the 
last hill is surmounted, and the first glimpse of the valley 
of Yumuri, breaks upon us. Looking down a steep 
hillside, worn into deep guilies by heavy rains (of such 
regularity, that they look like a row of gigantic col- 
umns) we see a gently undulating vale, feathery with 
palms — billowy with cane — golden with an ever-present 
flowering shrub, peculiar to the country — a thread of 
silver winding through it, to show what a small begin- 



136 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

ning in life, as a brook, the river Yumuri has, — and all 
around, green hills, with sun-gilded crests, and sides 
mantled with shadow. But this is only the beginning 
of enchantments. Riding along the brow of the hills, 
our eyes are delighted with a succession of lovely and 
changeful pictures, until we reach a point on one side, 
where we 'all alight, and scramble a little way down a 
steep, rocky path, bordered by a thicket of shrubs, till 
we stand on the summit of a hill that thrusts a rough, 
scarred shoulder out into the valley, and a complete 
view of its whole length and breadth is before us ! It 
is of such an exquisite, ethereal, and pathetic beauty, 
that all voices are hushed, all hearts touched, and we 
gaze in absolute, breathless silence ! The valley is vast, 
in extent, and deep down below us, in position ; yet its 
minute, microscopic features seem very near in the 
transparent air, very distinct in the flood of sunset light 
which both reveals and transfigures them; and those 
same slanting sunbeams, give it a tremulous, palpitating 
grace, which makes it appear unreal and unearthly — a 
•thing to dissolve and vanish even while we gaze and 
wonder. There is no habitation to be seen in it, no 
form of man ; it is a tract of enchanted ground — a 
lovely opening into fairy-land — a vast piece of weird 
mosaic — a picture of Eden before man had breathed 
uj>on and dimmed it ; — yet none of these images fully 
expresses its peculiar, exceeding charm. Like the 
master-pieces of art or of poetry, it has a nameless and 
intangible beauty, a consummate deliciousness, that 
baffles comprehension, and seems to belong almost more 
to the domain of faith than that of sight. 



THE VALLEY OF YU3IURI. 137 

Right opposite to us, two lofty mountain-peaks lift 
their rugged brows to look upon it admiringly, throwing 
long shadows across its gilded floor, — for behind them 
the sun is going down, round, red, in cloudless glory — 
and he too seems to be gazing, wondering, lingering, 
loth to pass on and leave it behind ! I know not what 
feelings stir in the hearts around me, but my own, after 
a little, swells with an indescribable sense of pain that 
this entrancing vision will have so soon passed out of my 
life, never again to be present to actual vision, however 
it may haunt my memory ; for its subtle fascination and 
appealing beauty wind themselves into my soul, and 
cling there, with a pleading, persistent tenderness, — 
whispering, in siren tones, " Abide with me and be my 
love!" 

But the sun has- dropped behind the mountains, 
and the valley begins to fill with shadow, as with a 
sea! The clouds darken, the outlines tremble and 
blend, the tufted palm-trees sink out of sight, — swiftly, 
too swiftly, the purple billows climb the hill-sides, until 
all is submerged ; and, looking across the deluge wdiich 
has swept over that fairy world, we see the dark forms 
of the mountain mourners sharply outlined on the pink 
and gold background of the sky. What subtle link 
of association brings before me that lovely picture of the 
" Christian Martyr," which used to hang in Goupil's 
window ? — a fair female figure, drifting in transparent, 
rippled waters. Do I expect to see some sweet incar- 
nation of the drowned Valley floating on the surface of 
that purple sea ? 



138 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

Sighing as we go, we turn our backs on the dark- 
ened picture, and climb back to the road. Life is full 
of strange contrasts, anci we next find ourselves in a 
sugar-house close at hand, belonging to the " ingenio " 
of "La Victoria" — and feel much as if we had been 
suddenly transported from Paradise to Pandemonium. 
The establishment is not a large one ; and the mill is of 
the primitive sort, somewhat resembling an old-fash- 
ioned cider-mill. It is turned by five or six pairs 
of oxen going round and round in a dusky gallery 
above; the negro drivers of which keep up a contin- 
uous yelling and screeching that may truly be called 
infernal, — it makes us put our hands to our ears. 
They are hideous, vicious-looking creatures, too (the 
dusk and the noise may be partially responsible for 
that), so that the pistols in the belt, and the sword by 
the side, of the overseer, seem not a needless precau- 
tion. This latter personage, by the way (here known 
as the mayoral), is politely cutting up sugar-cane for us 
to chew, while we are making these observations, — a 
refection not to be despised when once the taste for it is 
acquired. We are glad to escape from this noisy Ere- 
bus to the vats below, though it is even hotter down 
there, and the half-naked attendants, seen through 
clouds of vapor, might be taken for Macbeth's witches 
over their cauldron. The process of sugar-boiling and 
drying is shown and explained to us, but as I shall 
witness this operation by and by, on one of the largest 
and completest " ingenios " of the island, worked by 
steam, I pass over it now. Finally — a last attention 



THE VALLEY OF YUMURI. 139 

always paid to guests — teacups are filled from the boil- 
ers, with a cocoa-nut dipper, and commended to our lips. 
The draught, however, is not much to the taste of any- 
body except Don Cecilio and myself; but we linger, 
sipping the hot, sweet beverage, and chatting with the 
mayoral, for a considerable time ; and are compared by 
Miss R. to two old maids, drinking tea ! 

Emerging from this den of sweets, unrefined and 
unadulterated, we are confronted by a row of negresses, 
each with a bouquet to present to the ladies. We accept 
the flowers with thanks, and they receive a donation 

from Seiior G with courtseyings and ejaculations 

grotesque and indescribable ! 

Then follows a pleasant ride home in the moonlight, 
and a charming, silvered view of* city and bay, as we 
surmount and descend the last hill. We enjoy it all 
keenly, but we do not talk much about it ; — in truth, 
when the recollection of that wondrous valley, transfig- 
ured in the sunset and drowned in the shadow, comes be- 
fore us, we feel as if we should never talk any more ; for 
a fair, cherished friend is buried out of our sight, and the 
earth cannot ever seem so bright again. What words will 
embody to others the lost grace, the evanescent loveli- 
ness, or the exquisite pleasure and tender pain that we 
have experienced ! 



CHAPTER XV. 

LAS CUEVAS DE BELLAMAR. 

44 "T^OU don't really mean to say that you are going 
to spend the rest* of the winter in Matanzas ? " 
said a certain John Bull to me, in a gently amazed and 
supercilious way, as I was quitting Havana. "Why, 
there is nothing worth seeing there but the Caves, and 
you can do them in a day." 

If we dwelt in the Palace of Truth, I might have 
responded that we can " do " some persons in less time 
than that ; it takes scarcely more than a glance to arrive 
at their sum total of national arrogance and personal con- 
ceit ; but Talleyrand affirms that words were given us- 
to enable us to conceal our thoughts, and in my answer 
doubtless they fulfilled their mission. 

I did not then know how unfounded was the gentle- 
man's assertion. Nothing worth seeing at Matanzas? 
Had he never seen (or only failed to appreciate) the 
beautiful, far-reaching views from the Cumbre? Had 
he forgotten the Valley of Yumuri, loveliest and ten- 
derest landscape that ever charmed mortal vision ? Did 
he never hear of the soft beauty of " Los Molmos ? " 
Had he never felt his soul rise and nutter around the 
grand, blue dome of the " Pan," in a vain attempt to 



LAS CUEVAS BE BELLAMAR. 141 

climb to the full moral height of its airy sublimity? 
Let me record it here, that in the matter of pure air and 
lovely scenery, Matanzas has greatly the advantage of 
Havana; and for all persons who can content them- 
selves outside of "May Fair," it is much the more de- 
sirable residence. Invalids, especially, should never pitch 
their tents in Havana ; almost any other spot in Cuba, 
where a reasonable amount of life's comforts can be 
secured, is a better and a kindlier abiding-place for 
them. 

But to the Caves ! Even His High Superciliousness, 
from across the Atlantic, endorsed them as worth seeing ; 
and inasmuch as we do not intend to pass by on the 
other side of any opportunity of doing good — to our- 
selves, — nor of letting it be done to us through the 
revealings of that spirit of beauty which is so nearly 
akin to the spirit of love, we will go and see them ! 

In accordance with the hints of my hostess, I donned 
for the expedition certain short and loose garments which 
would neither embarrass motion nor suffer quickly from 
moisture, and which had already established some small 
claim upon the washtub ; so I found myself a veritable 
grub among butterflies when I joined the other ladies of 
the party, whose toilets had not been made under so 
wise a supervision. The sun was sending long, slanting 
beams across the valley when our volantes were set in 
motion ; and some fear was expressed lest night should 
be upon us, ere our inspection of the caves was con- 
cluded. To which Don Enrique responded, with a grave 
face, but a twinkling eye, that " as caves were seen to 



142 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

better advantage by torchlight than daylight, it didn't 
much matter ! " Don Gustavo, a travelled Cuban, who 
has seen something of most countries under the sun, 
and picked up a smattering of divers tongues, rode on 
the right of my volante, and entertained me with a 
cheerful miscellany of four languages, which had but 
one drawback — it was frequently unintelligible. The 
quickest wits will now and then lose the track of sen- 
tences that begin in English, slide into French at the 
first stumble, relieve their embarrassment by a German 
expletive or two, and end comfortably in the speaker's 
native Spanish. 

Our route first lay along the margin of the bay, 
where the waves, linking hands, came rushing up almost 
to the horses' feet, like troops of sportive children, and 
then broke and retreated, amid shouts of laughter and 
showers of spray. Just here, making the most of the 
broad outlook over the water, and the advantages for 
sea-bathing, boating, etc., three gentlemen have built 
summer villas, which, being the fairest examples of 
their kind in the vicinity, deserve a passing notice. 
The walls are stuccoed, and painted in bright colors, 
with facings at their base, three or four feet high, of 
blue and white Dutch tiles, figured in quaint patterns, 
and highly polished. In front is a broad piazza, with a 
heavy pediment, supported by white Doric columns ; 
and through the wide-open windows we catch a glimpse 
of various large and lofty apartments, all en suite, with 
cool marble floors and white muslin draperies, and 
elegantly, but simply, furnished. In the midst is a 



LAS CUEVAS DE BELL AM AR. 143 

court, with a sparkling fountain in its centre, encircled 
with broad-leaved plants. All around are blooming 
gardens ; and lemon and orange trees, blossomy and 
fruity, lean over the iron railings. A group of dark- 
eyed senoras upon the piazza completes the picture, 
and inclines one to think that suburban life in Cuba is 
as enjoyable as anything ought to be, in a world which 
one must some time quit. 

Just beyond is a group of wooden houses, which 
the natives point out as a curiosity — having undergone 
a sea voyage from the United States, together with a 
number of carpenters, who put them up in their present 
position. They belong to the common, ugly class of 
tenement houses ; and neither their bare, clap-boarded 
sides, nor their loop-holes of windows, are calculated to 
impress the Cuban mind with the superiority of foreign 
over native architecture. 

A short distance beyond these, our road turns to 
the south and begins to climb the hills, which cluster 
everywhere around Matanzas; and we are jolted over 
stones and jerked through gullies, at a rate that sets 
our words and ideas to knocking their heads together in 
a most uncomfortable and bewildering fashion. I won- 
der if there is a tolerable country road in all Cuba ! 
Certainly, such a one as we are now toiling over, within 
two miles of the second city in the island, and on the 
route to Cardenas, a flourishing seaport town, does not 
promise much to reward further investigation. We jog 
on for a mile or two, with frequent pauses to breathe 
the jaded horses, until we reach a wide extent of table 



144 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

land, and trot briskly up to the door of a low, wooden 
building in the centre ; when our postilions drop from 
their saddles, and we read on a conspicuous sign, " Las 
Cuevas de Bellamar " (The Caves of the Beautiful 
Sea.) Here ! There is a general exclamation of sur- 
prise. I own myself an ignoramus in the matter of 
caves, and possibly my anticipations were as absurd as 
they are proved to be unfounded; but I certainly 
expected to find the entrance to our subterranean desti- 
nation in the side of a cliff, or at the bottom of a ravine, 
or in some other place giving evidence of former convul- 
sions of nature. To come upon it, therefore, under a 
prosaic shanty, in the midst of a broad plain, smiling 
and peaceful as if it had never known change or disturb- 
ance since Eden blossomed under the- footsteps of 
Eve, was utterly subversive of all pre-arranged ideas ; 
and I alighted in a state of extreme humility, minded to 
take whatever came thereafter, and be thankful. 

While Cecilio registered the party in the visitors' 
book, I strolled around the room, and noticed its attrac- 
tions. Divers views of the caves adorned its walls, to 
give visitors a foretaste of the wonders awaiting them, 
and several cases of stalactites stood around, by way of 
further whetting of the appetite; while a stand of 
refreshments, with a goodly array of bottles, performed 
the same office, in a more literal sense. In the centre 
was a covered staircase leading — to the bottomless pit, 
I conclude, after looking down ! for I see the steps fade 
away through various gradations of dimness into dark- 
ness and nothingness ; — and this is the entrance to the 
Caves ! 



LAS CUEVAS DE BELLAMAR. 145 

The guides are now ready with flaming torches, and 
We commence our descent. In due time we touch bot- 
tom, and find ourselves standing in the midst of the 
" Gothic Temple," — the largest of the caves, though 
scarcely the most attractive, at present. For the stalac- 
tites being so near the entrance, have been somewhat 
soiled by the admission of outer air and dust, and have 
lost much of that luminous whiteness which is one of 
their chief beauties. Still, the forms of pillars and 
arches are very perfect and majestic,' and we gaze 
silently, with a mixture of wonder and awe. Pulpit 
and altar there is none. Nature is the priestess, and 
she offers the living sacrifice of hearts that are hushed 
beneath the vast dome into mute praise and fervent 
love. The guide tells us that, two or three years ago, 
the Bishop of Matanzas held a service here, with crowds 
of people to witness it, — an esthetic performance of 
which I should never have suspected that stout, round- 
faced, yet most dignified and reverend prelate. What a 
spectacle it must have been ! The gorgeous vestments 
of the priests, the wreathing lights, the clouds of 
incense, the solemn roll of chant and anthem among 
these grand pillars and arches, covered from broad base 
to airy summit with the minutest and delicatest tracery 
of frostwork! 

At one extremity, pendent over a deep chasm, is a 
mighty stalactite, which looks like a stately human form 
wrapped in the Roman toga. I thought of Curtius ; — ■ 
it needed but the horse to make the old Latin tradition 

visible to modern eves, in strange, ghostly characters, 

7 



146 MY WINTER IJ\ T CUBA. 

that may be older than itself. The fissure is of unknown 
depth ; I threw in a stone, and heard it tossed back and 
forth adown tile rocky sides, till the sounds died away 
into silence. 

Leaving the " Temple," we are led by a rough, 
rocky path to the " Gallery of Icicles;" the roof being 
adorned with clustering, pointed pendants of translucent 
stalactites, and the floor with tapering masses of corres- 
pondent stalagmites, except where a path has been 
cleared. 

Farther on, the empire of Fantasy begins, and her 
lovely or grotesque creations confront us at every step 
and beckon from every corner. Each stalactite takes 
the shape of leaf or blossom, insect or animal, in such 
bewildering j)rofusion of beauty or oddity that it is im- 
possible to take note of all ; the whole being a rich kalei- 
doscopic mystery that changes with every change of the 
position of the spectator. Here, an arch Cupid peeps 
out from a mass of tangled vines; there, a spray of 
leaves and blossoms charms us with its delicate finish ; 
here is an owl, and there is a cat ; and yonder a stalag- 
mite which, when the guide's torch is held behind it, 
becomes " A Lady's Skirt," — soft, sheer folds of snowy 
muslin, with a dainty, fluted flounce at bottom ! Farther 
along, the exquisite purity and loveliness of a " Yase of 
Flowers," seemingly carved out of dazzling pearl, leaves 
us no' room for incredulity at the guide's statement that 
a certain rich American offered two thousand dollars for 
it, and was refused— as he ought to have been ; other- 
wise the cave would have lost one of its chiefest adorn- 
ments. 



LAS CUEVAS DE BELLAMAR. 147 

The traditionary step between the sublime and the 
ridiculous is much shortened here ; often there is only 
a handbreadth between loveliness and deformity, and 
frequently the two run together in queer combinations 
of a lily growing out of an ugly, horny head, or a bird's 
wing attached to a rough, shapeless excrescence. Me- 
thought I had hit upon visible types of a moral fact. 
The continual, unnoted accretions of daily life shape 
characters into forms as imperfect and incongruous as 
these; the sweetest flowers of devotion and loyalty 
sometimes blossom out of the foulest relations, vices 
branch off into virtues, good and evil are inextricably 
blended, and only God can tell which shall ultimately 
predominate. But may He not, out of the fulness of His 
power and patience, bring all these unfinished material 
forms to final perfection and beauty ? And is He not 
also, by the light touches of circumstance, and the silent 
influences of His Spirit, rounding into symmetry charac- 
ters that now seem odd and ineffective jumbles of inhar- 
monious elements ? 

A pair of stalactites which have succeeded in joining 
their stalagmites below, and grown into a remote resem- 
blance to human limbs, are introduced to us as " Maxi- 
milian's Legs," — christened, doubtless, in days when 
the name of the unfortunate Austrian prince was more 
easily associated with mirthful ideas than now. Here- 
abouts, I am the Columbia who first discovers to the 
world a fair, white, crystalline — pig ! alike ignorant 
of swill and mud puddles; and it will probably be 
pointed out to succeeding visitors as the "American 



148 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

Lady's Pig." For we are now in the vicinity of the 
" English Lady's Bath ; " and all who wish to behold it, 
are invited, singly, to go down on all fours, and follow 
the guide into a small, dark aperture at the right. 
Crawling through mud and water for a yard or two, 
and knocking my head against divers projecting points, 
I am rewarded by the sight of a small, circular apart- 
ment, with ■ three or four feet of clear water at its 
bottom ; wherein, I am assured, a certain " Inglesa " 
once insisted on bathing, whence its name. As there is 
no standing-room within the apartment, and the irreg- 
ular, dirty 2->ath outside offers small accommodation for 
toilet purposes, one doubts if the lady's comfort were 
much increased by the indulgence of the whim ! Albeit, 
we are dripping with perspiration, because of the 
extreme heat, and our temples throbbing, by reason 
of the confined air ; so we accept an invitation to drink 
from the spring, and find the water quite palatable, 
though its temperature does not suggest an Arctic 
origin. 

AVe next enter " Benediction Hall," which shows no 
fitness for its name, that I can discover, but where the 
white stalactites cluster in even greater opulence of love- 
liness, and wilder fantasy, than elsewhere ; and we pant 
with an oppressive sense that a flood of undetected beau- 
ty is surging over us, of which Ave can grasp and keep 
only the minutest fraction. If we turn back a moment, 
fresh graces blossom out under our eyes, airy creations 
have sprung up magically since we looked there last, 
and as many more are waiting to surprise us if we look 



LAS CUEVAS I)E BELLAMAR. 149 

again. There are exquisite and marvellous specimens 
of flowers, foliage, and vines, twined by the fairies, 
doubtless ; with things ineffably absurd thrown in, here 
and there, by some mischievous gnome or elf. The in- 
finite fulness of beauty, and the variety and fertility of 
grotesque extravagance, are altogether confusing and 
indescribable ; to examine them thoroughly would take 
a lifetime. At the farther end, a stately row of alabas- 
ter organ-pipes, in a case of daintiest frostwork and 
pearl, causes us to wonder why it was not placed in the 
"Gothic Temple" yonder, — an inquiry to which the 
oracles of the cave return no answer. Its beauty takes 
on a more transparent, ethereal grace, as the guides' 
torches are held behind it; and that beautiful term, 
" frozen music," is no longer a purely poetic conception, 
but lives in my memory henceforth, a divinely white, 
airy, exquisite actuality. 

By this time we have learned that our guides are 
not only dispensers of light — material and metaphor- 
ical, — but careful guardians of the caves' treasures also, 
keeping strict watch over us, and interposing quickly be- 
tween the stalactites and any despoiling hand. There 
is reason- in the precaution, for if each visitor were al- 
lowed to break and carry away at will, there would soon 
be nothing left but the mangled remains of these lovely 
creations, wrought by the light, magical touches of cen- 
turies of falling drops. Many of them are unspeakably 
delicate and fragile, crumbling under the softest touch, 
obliterated by any accidental pressure ; the floor of the 
cave is covered with their white fragments. Neverthe- 



150 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

less, to a born curiosity-lover, like myself, the idea of 
quitting this realm of enchantment without a single me- 
mento of its wonders is intolerable ; but linger and 
watch as I may, I am sure to find a pair of dark, bright 
eyes fixed upon me. The most persistent pair belongs 
to a young negro, who brings up the rear of the proces- 
sion ; evidently, he has orders to leave no one behind 
him. Determined not to be baffled, however, I adopt 
another set of tactics. Turning suddenly upon my eb- 
ony follower, in the midst of a narrow, tortuous, ascend- 
ing path, I liold up to his view a bright silver piece, 
point to the stalactites, and motion him to pass on. The 
dark imp is neither obtuse nor incorruptible. He grius, 
marches forward, holding his torch at a convenient. angle 
over his shoulder, and looking straight forward ; while 
I hastily secure two tolerable specimens, and go on my 
way rejoicing. So does he, and I suspect that he had 
still further cause for self-gratulation ; for on reporting 
my stratagem and its success to one of my companions, 
she assumed my position in the rear, and I went forward 
to cross-question the head guide about the caves ; think- 
ing that it might be well to keep his attention occupied 
at this juncture. Virtue is ever its own reward ! I 
gathered a quantity of information which I should oth- 
erwise have missed. 

The entrance to the caves was once the site of a 
lime-kiln, the bottom of which suddenly "fell out" one 
day, to the consternation of the owner, and his lime 
vanished from sight. He and his assistant, when they 
had sufficiently recovered from their fright, set their 



LAS CUEVAS DE BELLAMAR. 151 

wits to work on the subject, and reached the wise con- 
clusion that they had happened upon a mine of precious 
metal, or a receptacle of hidden treasure. Swearing 
each other to secresy, and agreeing to share the profits, 
the one remained upon guard, while the other set forth 
to "buy up the land in the immediate vicinity ; which, 
not being deemed very valuable, he secured at a mod- 
erate price. Exploration . was the next thing to be 
thought of ; and after much deliberation and hesitation, 
the more courageous of the twain consented to be let 
down through the opening by a strong rope, with a light 
in one hand, and a signal cord in the other. He went 
down — down — down ! to what seemed to him a fright- 
ful depth, when his courage gave out, he pulled the 
cord, and was drawn up without having touched bot- 
tom; reporting that he had seen an immense vaulted 
roof, flashing with diamonds — and nothing more ! This 
was, of course, the " Gothic Temple," in its pristine 
whiteness and brilliancy. What an awfully grand sight 
it must have been to the terrified observer, suspended in 
mid air under its arched ceiling, and between its stately 
columns, whose bases were lost in the depth and dark- 
ness of the unknown Below ! Farther experiment re- 
vealed the real nature of his possession to the disap- 
pointed purchaser ; yet his treasure was not proven al- 
together "magician's coin;" for the caves attract large 
numbers of visitors, who are made to pay well for the 
sight, and have turned out a veritable mine of wealth to 
the owner, albeit not just of the sort he anticipated. 
It takes time and labor to prepare the galleries for 



152 MY WINTER IN CUBA, 

the reception of visitors ; the stalagmites must be cleared 
from the path, irregularities smoothed down, and chasms 
bridged. This has been done for three miles from the 
entrance, by two different routes, so that the visitor 
needs not to pass twice over the same ground. And the 
guide stated that other galleries, not yet made ready for 
visitors, had been explored, to a much greater distance 
than those now open ; and that in one of these was a 
lake that must be crossed by means of boats. So the 
Mammoth Cave of Kentucky may yet find a formidable 
rival in her Cuban sister, when the full extent and at- 
tractions of the latter are made known. 

It was aggravating to hear of these added wonders, 
and not be allowed to behold them; still, our first en- 
thusiasm was beginning to flag, we were dripping, pant- 
ing, and weary, and when we reflected that there were 
still two or three miles of fresh enchantments between 
us and egress, resignation was not unattainable. Our 
return-path led through new variations of white splen- 
dor, — dainty carvings, and quaint distortions, and dim 
ghost-peopled vistas, — infinite in detail, but similar, in 
general effect, to the galleries already visited. Four 
stalactites of great beauty and perfection deserve special 
notice. The " Virgin's Mantle, " — rich, graceful folds, 
of a delicate rose-tint and satiny texture, all glistening 
and glittering with brilliants. The " Lake of Dahlias, " 
— a frozen pool, studded with curious involuted projec- 
tions, of a tawny yellow. The "Three Angels, " — a 
triad of white figures, sitting side by side, in an attitude 
of grief, with drooping wings and veiled faces, any one 



LAS CUEVAS BE BELLAMAE. 153 

of which might serve for a representation of Bailey's 
Earth-Angel, who was " ever weeping." Last, and I 
think, most beautiful — though it is hard to choose where 
all are so lovely, and 'each has its own peculiar and ex- 
ceeding charm — a seemingly frozen waterfall, — sheet 
and foam arrested and mute, yet clear and bubbly still, 
and absolutely flashing and flaming and dancing with 
light, from every point, as the guides wave their torches 
before it. This has received the expressive name of the 
" Cascade of Diamonds." 

So we bade adieu to this realm of the gnomes and 
wizards, and climbed that detestable staircase, pausing 
to rest now and then, and wondering not that the 
first explorer refused to be dropped all at once into 
those dim depths and mysterious vastnesses ; and finally 
emerged into upper air and daylight, to laugh (when we 
had gotten breath enough) at the queer figures we 
made. Boots had sunken all distinctions but that of 
size under one thick, democratic coat of mud ; skirts 
were wofully splashed and stained ; sleeves and collar 
limp and shapeless; hair totally unconscious of crimp 
and innocent of curl. The grub came best out of this 
ordeal ; the butterflies looked as if drenched and blight- 
ed by a sudden shower, and utterly deprived of their 
moral expression. 

The guide advised us to pace the room awhile, until 
we were somewhat accustomed to the comparative cool- 
ness of the upper air, if we desired to escape colds ; so 
I obediently dragged my weary frame up- and down, 
while my friends rebelliously sank on the nearest settee, 



154 MY WINTER IX CUBA. 

and amused themselves — and me-^with witty commen- 
tary on my performance. The " best, last laugh " was 
mine next day, when one was reported in bed with rheu- 
matism, and another speechless from hoarseness. 

Our ride home by moonlight was charming enough 
to merit a separate paragraph ; but having already said 
enough in praise of the Cuban Luna to be set down as 
hopelessly moonstruck, I forbear, on the present occa- 
sion, at much cost of inclination. 



CHAPTER XVL 

A PROCESSION. 

rpiME was when the Roman Catholic Church was a 
power in Cuba ; but a military despotism cannot 
safely tolerate any rival authority, and she was long 
ago forced into a subordinate and almost slavish position. 
The government owns all the church edifices and other 
property; appoints and removes the clergy, when it 
chooses; fixes their salaries; and in short, exercises 
whatever authority, in ecclesiastical matters, it is its 
pleasure to assume. The results are a .sad lack of 
religious control and discipline — very observable in the 
almost universal disregard of the Lord's Day, and 
in certain dissolute practices of both clergy and laity, — ■ 
and a want of moral power in the Church, which is one 
great cause, doubtless, of the extreme prevalence of 
practical infidelity among the male population. A 
bishop cannot remove a presbyter, except by resort to a 
tribunal where the government has a voice, and is certain 
to have its way, in the end; which way is extremely 
likely to be influenced by other than spiritual motives, 
and to tend toward other than spiritual ends. The 
civil law allows slaves their time on Sundays, outside 
of a certain limit, in order to enable them to purchase 



156 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

their freedom, if they wish ; and many persons choose to 
employ them on that day, from lack of principle, or out 
of charitable considerations ; so that it is quite common 
to see housecleaning, whitewashing, painting, etc., pur- 
posely postponed to the Lord's Day. Whites and quad- 
roons, or mulattoes, live together in open concubinage, 
for the civil law prohibits the intermarriage of the 
races ; and they avoid the Church, because she, since she 
is not allowed to marry them, must needs put an end to 
such relations, ere she receives them into her bosom. 
These things are no small obstacles to the Church's 
work and influence, even where there are earnest desire 
and effort to do the one faithfully, and exert the other 
beneficially. 

This much is patent to the most casual observer of the 
religious life of the Island, and I do not claim to be 
much more than that. I early discovered that it was 
the merest waste of time, and most useless torture of 
feeling, for me to attend the services of the Romish 
Church with any purpose of devotion, or hope of benefit ; 
although I did my best to go in the sjririt of sympathy, 
and not of opposition, with a genuine desire to find 
points of agreement rather than of difference, and hold- 
ing fast to the theory that an earnest and spiritually 
minded Christian may pray anywhere, beside anybody, 
and be nothing the worse for it. Unfortunately for the 
theory, I found it impossible, in practice, to shut my 
ears to prayers addressed to the Virgin and saints, or 
my eyes to observances which I inwardly stigmatized as 
" profane mummery ; " and which stirred my soul to 



A PROCESSION. 157 

indignant protest, or cool disdain, or set me to rehears- 
ing all the long controversy "between Rome and the 
Church Catholic, until I was in no frame of mind to be 
benefited by whatever shreds of purity of doctrine, or 
beauty of ritual, the former might have to offer me. 
Nor could I settle it comfortably with my conscience to 
make these services, Sunday after Sunday, a spectacle 
or a study; knowing well that the study was not in 
the cause of truth, but for the gratification of curiosity. 
I was driven, therefore, to the conclusion that a quiet 
reading of our own helpful and satisfying Liturgy, in 
my own room, was the best, as it was the most conven- 
ient, method of fulfilling the letter and spirit of the 
fourth -commandment, and sharing the " Communion of 
Saints," which was open to me. 

Nevertheless, I have witnessed various services and 
ceremonies, at odd times, and certain domestic observ- 
ances have come under my observation, which may fur- 
nish matter for thought and interest. 

On my first coming to Matanzas, I went to see a 
u paso? or procession, — a religious ceremonial with 
which Protestants, and even Romanists, in the United 
States, have no acquaintance ; except in an extremely 
limited and modified form. Certain crowded, squalid 
quarters of Matanzas, chiefly inhabited by blacks and 
coolies, have been severely visited with small-pox 
during the winter; and this paso was designed as a 
propitiatory act, to procure an abatement of the epi- 
demic. At dusk, our carriage took a position at the 
corner of the " Plaza de Armas," directly on the route 



158 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

of the procession ; where, for an hour, we awaited its 
appearance, while the crowd grew dense and denser 
around us, until the Plaza surged with a sea of human 
heads, and the street behind us was packed with vehicles 
and spectators. The orderliness of the vast multitude was 
one of its pleasantest characteristics, — no ill humor, no 
shouldering, no fighting, no incivility, though the great 
mass of those on foot were of the lower orders of 
society. " Senor " and " seiiora " resounded on all sides, 
as courteously exchanged between housemaid and hod- 
carrier as between countess and general ; and the crowd 
swayed to and fro with as much unanimity as the waves, 
yielding to the regular motion of the tides. Less agree- 
able, though not less noticeable, was its evil odor. The 
daily pint of water, allowed to people of the better sort, 
probably shrinks to some quantity not worth mention- 
ing, among the lower classes. 

By and by, the universal patience was rewarded by 
the vision of a long line of thick, clustering lights 
descending the Cumbre, far away to the right, and 
apparently sailing by its own volition on a sea of dark- 
ness, or obedient to the waving of an unseen magician's 
wand ; which curious and beautiful illusion was the 
prettiest sight of the evening. Very slowly the lights 
approached, heralded by the notes of a band of music, 
and preceded by two or three companies of cavalry to 
clear the way. Then appeared a considerable company 
of negro-women, all dressed in white, and each bearing 
a flaming torch, — said to be, without exception, mourn- 
ers for friends who had fallen victims to the pestilence. 



A PROCESSION. 159 

They were succeeded by a heterogeneous mass of women 
and children, black and mulatto, all carrying torches, 
and dressed in every sort of gaud and gew-gaw wherein 
the African heart delight eth ; grand with long, sweeping 
trains, and marching on with that stately, erect, easy car- 
riage which is theirs by right of their universal practice 
of carrying heavy burdens on their heads. Next came a 
gigantic negro, a true Anak of his race, ringing a large 
dinner bell (" only that and nothing more ! ") with all 
his might and main, and with evident relish of his per- 
formance ; — he being the avant courier of a certain St. 
Sebastien, a life-sized figure, borne, on a platform, on 
the shoulders of four stout men. Now, hats began to 
come off in the crowd, in token that an element of solem- 
nity had been introduced into the scene, — a thing sadly 
lacking hitherto. I looked very scrutinizingly at the 
image, but, knowing nothing whatever of the character 
and achievements of the said Saint, to add any ideal or 
derived lustre to his image, I was unable to discover 
anything in its bare literalness, but an ugly, brown, 
semi-nude, and altogether inartistic representation of the 
human figure ; the complexion of which forced me to 
conclude that, like Murillo, Placido, and other persons 
of genius, the saint had African blood in his veins. Fol- 
lowing him was a large body of torch-bearing men, 
corresponding in color to their patron and leader. 

A second bell-ringer now smoothed the way for the 
passage of the Virgin, in the shape of a doll, two or 
three feet high, in great magnificence of golden and 
jewelled array. Her platform was decorated with flow- 



160 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

ers and tinsel, guarded at the corners by small gilded 
cherubim, and escorted by three or four priests in their 
robes. More hats were now lowered, and I saw some 
lips moving in prayer, which served to check the 
somewhat irreverent course of comment in which we 
were indulging, lest we might be giving offence to some 
of these "little ones," children in faith, if not in fact. 
Then came another long file of torch-bearers, but the 
Virgin had wrought a change of color^miraculously, 
or otherwise, — and whites now filled the ranks of the 
procession ; yet it was plainly to be seen that the repre- 
sentation was chiefly drawn from the lower classes. 

Next, appeared a large crucifix, with a life-sized 
figure of the Saviour, fashioned with the usual minute 
and revolting attention to details. I conld have com- 
pounded, thankfully, for a dozen Virgins, and any com- 
putable number of saints, in the place of this one 
crucifix ; — seeing it, I became sensible that, somewhere 
in my veins, there must run one great drop of blood, 
directly inherited from some uncompromising iconoclast, 
of Cromwellian times. It was borne by black-robed 
priests, and followed by a small company of ecclesias- 
tical, civil, and military dignitaries ; each with his torch, 
and all in excellent humor, apparently, for the sound of 
their half-suppressed chat and laughter broke somewhat 
harshly upon the surrounding silence. All hats were 
lifted, as the crucifix passed ; the crowd crossed itself 
reverently, and the hush was general and prolonged. 

A band of music playing a dirge-like march, and a 
regiment of infantry, closed the procession. The line of 



A PROCESSION. 161 

lights defiled slowly down the street, and disappeared 
under the black arch of the Cathedral as instantaneously 
and completely as if it had been the Gate of Oblivion. 
I could have wished it were — for certain adjuncts of the 
ceremony ! 

As a sanitary measure, the procession failed lament- 
ably. Nothing short of a miracle could have prevented 
its legitimate effect, — to spread contagion, and increase 
the pestilence. A few days later, the government, tak- 
ing a more sensible view of the situation, issued an 
order prohibiting all crowds, for any purpose whatever, 
and enforcing certain precautions and restrictions ; 
which, after some weeks, was followed by a marked 
abatement of the disease. Still later, the city was 
officially declared free from epidemic ; and thereupon, a 
Te Deum was appointed to be sung in the cathedral, at 
which the reader is invited to " assist " in the next 
chapter. As the Comandante, with his staff and escort, 
is to be present, it will be necessary to go early. 



CHAPTER XVR 



A TE DEUM. 



"IV /TATASTZAS has but three churches for the accom- 
modation of its forty thousand souls ; and of 
these, the Cathedral only will repay the stranger's visit. 
It is a structure of dark stone, with nothing impressive 
about it, but its size and its aspect of hoar antiquity. 
The Cuban climate has a knack of dealing with build- 
ings of comparatively modern date in a way to make 
them look as if they had witnessed the lapse of centu- 
ries ; therefore this gray old edifice, upon which it has 
been at work for nearly two hundred slow-paced years, 
must needs have acquired a look of extreme venerable- 
ness. In truth, its severe plainness, approaching to 
shabbiness, seems but the natural condition of its time 
of life.* It has outlasted all taste for adornment, all 
Grecian and Gothic vanities, all care for keeping up 
appearances, and comfortably slidden into the white- 
headed, broad-brimmed, loose-coated, and slip-shod 
period of architecture, corresponding to the same epoch, 
in the life of man. It is flanked by two rough towers, 
the taller of which is not without architectural pleasant- 
ness to the eye, and moreover, contains a fine chime of 
bells. 



A TE DEUM. 163 

Within, it is vast, dim, and bare. There is an acre or 
two of stone flags, by way of floor, but in a state of 
chronic insurrection and upheaval, in the nave, and, in 
front of the altar and shrines, worn away by the rever- 
ential footsteps of many successive generations of peni- 
tents, now slowly crumbling into dust. There are also 
divers large, lofty, sombre-browed columns, sturdily set- 
ting themselves to their age-long task of supporting the 
ponderous, cavernous, gloomy arch of the roof; also a 
high altar of white marble; and furthermore, nothing 
but a musty odor of vanished years, a harsh-toned, 
severe-tempered organ, and the shrines, pictures, relics, 
etc., which are common to all Romish churches. 

Our hour of waiting serves to record these particu- 
lars, and to watch the arrival of Matanzas's female aris- 
tocracy. They gather in great strength ; the vast ampli- 
tude of the nave is soon filled with prayer-carpets, 
kneeling figures in black dresses and mantillas, fluttering 
fans, missals, and rosaries. From pillar to pillar, a 
single row of benches forms a kind of barricade around 
them, outside of which gentlemen crowd, in such num- 
bers that there is danger of this slight defence being 
carried by inadvertency. 

At nine o'clock, the chimes break upon the ear, with 
a somewhat unsatisfactory tone, it must be confessed ; 
attributable, doubtless, to the fact that they are not 
rung, but beaten with iron bars, by a dozen stout 
negroes ; which indignity the grand, old bells resent, as 
they have a right to do, by keeping their wealth of 
sonorous music pent up within them, and giving out 



164 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

only a. dead, muffled sound, which savors more of protest 
than jubilation. The Comandante immediately presents 
himself, steps warily along the ovAskirts of the sea of 
crinoline which has overflowed the nave, and seats him- 
self upon one of the benches, near the altar, — a pleasant- 
faced, portly gentleman, with two or three stars and 
orders glistening on his breast. He is attended by sev- 
eral officers, nobles, and gentlemen, his staff, and an 
escort of soldiers, — which latter forms in the vestibule 
and near the door. He and his companions are accom- 
modated with tall, lighted tapers, by an attendant 
priest ; they rise, and the Te Deum commences. 

To say truth, it is chiefly remarkable for clangor. 
There is none of that clear, piercing melody of boys' 
voices, for which I had looked ; the singers are all men, 
chosen (it is impossible to avoid the conclusion) for the 
strength of their lungs, and with small reference to any 
other quality whatsoever. The organ lends all the 
grumble and bellow of its hoarse pipes, a dozen or two 
of violins and violincellos screech and groan in concert, 
and the brass instruments of the military band throw in 
clash and crash ad libitum. Moreover, several small 
tea bells, or something similar, are rung furiously by 
the altar boys; the negroes above are belaboring the 
poor chimes with their best will ; and cannon and vol- 
leys of musketry are fired, at intervals, just outside the 
door. I have a suspicion, too, that there is a popping 
of fireworks somewhere; but whether on the roof, or 
under the floor, or close at my back, it is impossible to 
say ; nor does it make any manner of difference. The 



A TE DEU3L 165 

din is fearful ; it sounds like two or three Fourth of July- 
celebrations rolled into one ; but after its separate parts 
have lost something of their grotesqueness and promi- 
nency by repetition, one becomes sensible of an odd kind 
of grandeur dominating the uproar, the product of such 
an immense volume of sustained and jubilant sound. 
Between the roll of the cannon, we are able to make 
out a few words of the Te Deum, enough to show that 
it is the same grand, ancient Latin hymn, whereof the 
English version is so dear to our hearts ; but toward the 
close, we discover that certain ascriptions to the Virgin 
and Saints have somehow been ingrafted upon the 
mighty, majestic branches, and its beauty is tarnished 
henceforth for us. 

The celebration of the Mass follows, with even more 
than the usual splendor of robes and pomp of ceremonial. 
We send some scrutinizing. glances around us, with the 
design of learning to how many of those present it is 
really an act of worship; and their number, judging by 
appearances (the deceitfulness of which I would in no- 
wise underrate), is mournfully small. Even the doctrine 
of the Real Presence does not keep dark eyes from wan- 
dering, and fans from " operating a system of covert 
telegraphy; while the negroes look on with a stolid 
receptivity, which seems less indicative of faith than 
superstition. Yet be it recorded that I have seen de- 
votion in these Romish churches — devotion as real, 
absorbed, and fervent, as is- possible to the human 
heart. Women that crept quietly into shadowy corners, 
and wrestled, as did Jacob of old, with a Presence 



166 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

dread, Divine, for a blessing to be granted, or an afflic- 
tion to, be withheld or withdrawn. Faces more earnestly 
and pathetically appealing than ever I saw in the home 
churches ; for this Cuban race lives out its inner self far 
more frankly than we do, and is neither so apprehensive 
of observation, nor so sensitive to it, as our hardier, 
more self-contained and self-controlled race. Hands 
clasped convulsively over a forgotten rosary, while lips 
trembled with the passionate pleading of prayers that 
were not reckoned among the prescribed number of 
Pater Jtfosters and Ave Marias. But this was at quiet 
matins or vespers, when the few who came, came to 
pray, and the old Cathedral looked vaster and dimmer 
and lonelier than ever, for its scattered, isolated worship- 
pers ; — not on days of High Festival, like the present, 
when all the world goes to church, in its worldliest 
mood, to enjoy the spectacle. 

I know not precisely at what point in the service our 
attention is drawn and held by one rapt, innocent, ador- 
ing face in the Comandante's train, which might well 
serve as a model for a picture of that young Catholic 
saint, beheaded by certain Jews of old time, whereof 
the legend runs that the lovely, severed head went on 
singing hymns and saying Ave Marias, for a day and 
a night afterward, to the extreme amazement and terror 

of the executioners. It is the son of the Count , 

not yet old enough to have outgrown his childhood 
faith, and slid into the common Spanish infidelity ; — not 
the keen, hard, witty infidelity of the Frenchman, skilful 
at finding out the joints of the Church's armor, and 



A TE DEUM. 167 

making clever thrusts therein ; nor the phlegmatic, 
dispassionate, thoughtful infidelity of the German, off- 
spring of a mind lost and gone astray amid its own 
intellections, and blinded by dust of its own raising ; but 
an infidelity of disdain, last resort of men who have 
flung aside their allegiance -to the Church of Rome in 
the extremity of disgust at its deceptions, its assump- 
tions, and the scandalous lives of many of its priests ; 
and who have not sought, nor care to seek, for anything 
better to fill the empty place. I think I could count on 
the fingers of one hand, all the males that I have seen, 
during my whole stay in Cuba, engaged in any volun- 
tary act of devotion ; if I except that rapid crossing of 
brow, lips, and breast, which runs like a ripple through 
the crowd gathered in the Cathedral, at the elevation of 
the Host ; and seems more a matter of habit, or of cour- 
tesy, than an expression of devotional feeling, so little 
of solemnity, or even of attentiveness, is there in it. 

After the elevation of the Host, the Comandante 
and his friends are relieved of their tapers, which they 
surrender with great alacrity; their attention having 
been chiefly engaged, hitherto, by the onerous necessity 
of keeping them upright. This has been signally weari- 
some to a spruce young aid-de-camp, who has several 
times been on the point of putting out his neighbor's eyes 
with his taper, while his own are busy with the bright 
challenges thrown to him from the nave. Now, the 
party seat themselves comfortably on their benches, and 
look around them with the manifest intention of making 
up for lost time. 



168 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

At last, the priests bring their droning, nasal, monot- 
onous intoning of the prayers to an end, and the strange 
rite is over. The congregation waits, standing, until the 
Comandante has bowed himself out, and then dis- 
perses slowly, with a birdlike twittering of talk among 
the women. Then, the long shadows of the columns 
again stretch unbroken across the stone floor, the dim, 
duskiness steals back to its wonted corners ; and the old, 
white-haired sacristan, hopeful of a chance of turning 
an honest penny, offers to show us the little chapel 
and sacristy. We decline; we have seen them all 
before, and know there is nothing in them worth visit- 
ing, or recording. 



CHAPTER XVIIL 

SUNDAY SEEINGS AND DOINGS. 

^TjTL DOMINGO" is a trying day, in Cuba, to 
whomsoever has in his veins the faintest color- 
ing of that blue blood which is responsible for the sour 
asceticism and rigid formalism of the " Blue Laws " of 
Connecticut, — one of the most notable examples in his- 
tory of the axiom, that " extremes meet." No matter 
how substantially the blueness has been toned down by 
some few generations of a healthier growth' of religious 
life, and a more genial apprehension of the character 
of the worship due to a God whose highest name is 
" Love," he cannot get through the day without more 
shocks to his principles and prejudices than are whole- 
some or agreeable. The domestic business goes on, with 
the accumulated impetus of a fresh relay of hands ; the 
counting-houses are suggestively half-open ; the shops 
are brilliant and busy; the chain-gang labors on the 
Government works ; and the tide of human life sends 
its fullest and gayest flow through the streets and 
squares of the city. In the morning, people go to 
Mass, or to business, according as they are devout, or 
no ; but the evening is unscrupulously sacrificed, by all 
classes, on the altar of Pleasure. The theatre then 
8 



170 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

gathers its most brilliant audience, the retreta its densest 
crowd, the shops and restaurants their best customers. 

In vain I shut myself in my room ; sounds most un- 
sabbatical invade and destroy my quiet. The children 
are all at home, — for Sunday preserves enough of its 
holy-day character to shut the schools and public build- 
ings, — and there is a fivefold gush of antic and merri- 
ment through the house. Dolorita seizes the opportu- 
nity for practice, and strums waltzes and marches on 
the piano with an energy and diligence worthy a better 
work. Moreover, the opera company at the "Teatro 
Esteban," on the upper side of the Square, is rehearsing 
for the evening, with wide-open windows; the street- 
criers are vociferous and hopeful; and just up the street, 
a nomadic menagerie allures the public with the would- 
be lively notes of a wheezy and dismembered brass band. 
In the course of the forenoon, Atanasia appears, tub on 
head, to give my room its weekly drenching ; — I use the 
word advisedly, for she commences by emptying three 
or four pails of water on the tiles, with the object of 
drowning out the fleas, as well as of washing away the 
dirt. Driven forth by this flood, I find the sola and 
dining-room in the hands of housemaids, and possibly 
of white washers ; the laundry is in active operation; 
Ricardo bakes, boils, stews, and scatters his hats, in an 
ambitious attempt to concoct a dinner that shall surpass 
all former achievements ; and the only refuge is in Doiia 
Coloma's own room, where she pursues her elaborate 
stitching or intricate embroidery precisely as on other 
days. There are a few high festivals and saints' days, 



• SUNDAY SEEING S AND DOINGS. 171 

marked with a double cross in the Spanish calendar, on 
which she would think it well to intermit her work; but 
this is not one of them, — indeed, I think they fall often- 
est on a week-day. 

Later, the house takes on a festive aspect ; its mis- 
tress makes a grand toilet ; little Rafael is put into his 
scarlet uniform ; Christinita is made ill-at-ease, bashful,' 
and enchanting, in white lace and muslin ; and the ser- 
vants deck themselves out with whatever gala-day finery 
they may possess. There is more than the usual number 
of guests at dinner ; and among them are sure to be two 
or three bronzed sea-captains, whose ships, gay with a 
holiday dress of bright bunting, ride at anchor in the 
harbor, while they spin yarns of every material and hue, 
and recount hair-breadth 'scapes and hair-brained ad- 
ventures on every sea and every qoast ; which if they 
be truth, shame all the marvels of invention. To one 
of these, who has a rare natural eloquence, and a won- 
derful faculty of so arranging his material as to throw 
forward all the picturesque points without injuring the 
j>erspective, it is a treat to listen. The only drawback 
is in thinking it over, — the very excellence of the work 
breeds suspicion ; — seldom do life's actual events group 
themselves so artistically as in the captain's narrative. 

The interim between the dessert and the announce- 
ment of the carriage is seized by Doiia Coloma, for a 
little catechetical instruction of the children ; to which 
I listen with an attention that would assuredly bring 
her proselyting instincts into active exercise, if she had 
any. I learn the nature and design of penance, the rou- 



172 MY WINTER IN CUBA, 

tine of confession, the catalogue of the principal saints, 
etc. I find that the commandment forbidding the wor- 
ship of graven images is expunged from the Roman 
Decalogue, as it needs to he (to make all consistent, the 
third and fourth ought to follow it) ; and I conclude 
that the coveting of one's neighbor's wife is an offence 
of great frequency and universality, since it is counted 
deserving of a separate statute, — which splitting of the 
tenth commandment in two makes up the required num- 
ber, I am also taught how to cross one's self after the 
elaborate Cuban fashion, via the children standing be- 
fore their mother ; who proceeds as follows, suiting the 
action to the word : 

" Therefore, we have to sign and sanctify ourselves, 
by making three crosses ; the first on the brow, in order 
that God may deliver us from evil thoughts ; the second 
on the mouth, that He may deliver us from evil words ; 
the third on the breast, that He may deliver us from evil 
works ; saying, * By the sign of the Holy Cross, deliver 
us from our enemies, O Lord our God ; In the name of 
the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, 
Amen, Jesus:'" — and at the word "Jesus," the ends 
of the fingers and thumb are brought together, and 
kissed devoutly. 

In which observance it is hard to find anything ob- 
jectionable, if it be piously practised. The teaching of 
it to the children, however, is apt to degenerate into a 
frolic. Dolorita, to be sure, goes through the perform- 
ance with a lofty, pharisaical superciliousness ; but Fe- 
lipa's words and ideas are always tripping each other 



SUNDAY SEEINGS AND DOINGS. IT 3 

up ; Odila's agile and irrepressible fingers indulge in 
various supererogatory crosses upon the oddest and 
most out-of-the-way members of her small body; and 
Rafael is not quite clear about the distinctiveness of 
his nose and mouth, gets bewildered, embarrassed, and 
sulky, and refuses to cross himself at all. 

It is now time for the usual drive. I go, — not that I 
should think of doin^ such a tiling at home, — but no 
oj)portunity for fresh air and exercise is to be lightly 
thrown away, in this land of oriental seclusion; and 
furthermore, it is simply a question between tweedle- 
dum and tweedle-dee, whether my Sunday's sanctity 
shall be ruthlessly slain to me in or out of doors. There 
is even a chance that the murder will be something less 
barbarous in the open air, since my hostess, in consider- 
ation of my prejudices — as she deems them — often fore- 
goes the crowded paseo, and gives me a quiet drive 
along the beach, cool and resonant with the dash of 
foamy waves, or orders Amavedo to climb a little way 
up the Cumbre, for one of its lovely views of the fair 
city seated between the mountains and the bay. 

Returning from one of these drives, I notice lights 
in the cathedral, and beg her to stop long enough to let 
me see something of the vesper-service. The rosy glow 
of the sunset tips the pinnacles of the gray tower, as we 
enter the low-browed portal, but a twilight duskiness is 
already brooding in the quiet interior. There are no 
lights save the candles burning on the altar, where a 
single priest is intoning Latin prayers in a low, monot- 
onous voice. A few worshippers, with faces indistinct 



174 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

and spirit-like in the dimness, are kneeling here and 
there, solitary or in little groups ; telling their beads 
with evident singleness of purpose and sincerity of de- 
votion, for they do not look up as we pass. There is no 
music ; only the ghost of an organ looks grimly down 
from the choir, and suggests harmonies of whose divine 
pain it might have died. The gravity, the hush, the 
shadow, are all very good after the clatter and gayety 
and glare of the streets; I sit down on the end of a' 
bench, and taste some rare moments of quiet, sweet en- 
joyment. 

By and by, a second priest suddenly appears in the 
pulpit, with a sort of stage-effect, since the entrance 
thereto is concealed within the masonry of a column ; 
and his dark-robed figure is seen in outline on the 
lighter background of the pillar. His sermon is full of 
rant and acrimony, and delivered with a superabundance 
of extravagant gesticulation, utterly inharmonious with 
the hour and the scene ; so I soon tire of listening, and 
go on a pilgrimage to the shrines, and try to make out 
their images and pictures in the obscurity. I stand, for 
some moments, tracing the faint outlines of an old brown 
canvas, in the firm belief that they tell the story of the 
transformation of biscuits into roses, in St. Elizabeth's 
apron ; and am considerably nonplussed when Cecilio 
interrupts my comments and conjectures with the state- 
ment that I am looking at a picture of Salome, bearing 
the head of John the Baptist on a charger ! Finishing 
my studies abruptly, I signify that I am ready to go. 

On another evening, we enter the cathedral in the 



SUNDAY SEEING S AND DOINGS. 11 5 

same unpremeditated fashion, and find that we have 
come unawares upon a most solemn and touching ser- 
vice, — solemn and touching even to those who have no 
faith in its efficacy, — a mass for the souls of the dead. 
If the building was dusky at our previous visit, it is ab- 
solutely dark now : the night which is fast gathering 
strength outside, is already dominant here, — it may have 
fallen from the gloomy arch of the roof, or arisen from 
the dank floor in vapory and sombre exhalations. A 
single taper burns upon the altar, by which the officiat- 
ing priest intones his solemn prayers ; but its rays pene- 
trate only a little way into the obscurity of the nave ; 
the tall pillars have a grim and spectral aspect; and the 
roof, corners, and organ-loft are mere masses of heavy 
shadow. The floor is strewn with dark, formless objects ; 
they might be automatic figures, or strange, nocturnal 
animals, or a hundred other things, for aught that our 
eyes tell us ; but some fine, spiritual vision makes it clear 
to us that we are in the presence of sorrowing human 
souls, that the air is thick with tears and heart-break, 
and heavy with impassioned supplication. Each one 
is so isolated in the silence and sombreness as to be free 
from every distraction and constraint, yet feels the 
soothing presence of many other stricken, mourning 
hearts, and knows that its prayers, on their upward 
way, are blended with many consonant petitions, the 
, unutterably tender and pathetic harmony of which can- 
not fail to touch the ear of the All-Father. 

But vainly I seek to give you an adequate concep- 
tion of the impressive solemnity and weird suggestive- 



176 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

ness of the scene — the vast, ancient edifice, venerable 
with the consecration of the prayers of many vanished 
and ghostly generations — the one taper, shining like a 
star in the midnight of the chancel — the low, subdued 
chant of the priest — the intervals of awe-struck silence 
— the shadowy, motionless forms of the scattered peni- 
tents, that seem but dim hints of other scarcely more 
substantial shapes that may be lurking in the remote 
corners, or peering down from the dim arch aloft. Its 
influence — spell — magnetism — what you will ! — domi- 
nates prejudice, and vanquishes resistance, in every 
heart that has some time bled over a grave (and few 
there are who have not) ; it tyrannizes over me to such a 
degree that I am constrained to seek out a dim nook, 
and straightway drop on my knees. But my dead, 
thank God ! — all of whom I have the dear right to say 
"mine" — have died "in the communion of the Catholic 
Church, in the confidence of a certain faith, in the com- 
fort of a reasonable, religious, and holy hope ; " — I need 
not pray for them, if I dared ! But there are others, 
not gone down to the Silent Land, yet as dead to me as 
if the Spring grasses and violets had drawn their inex- 
orable bars between our faces, for whom it is still per- 
missible to say the prayer of faith. And may it add 
some touch of tender blessing to their far-away lives ! 

The voice of the priest at the altar dies away into 
silence, and there are some moments of a stillness so 
deep, so utter, that I involuntarily hold my breath ; yet 
so subtly interfused with intense, powerful emotion, 
that the sound of a shriek would really be a relief, and 



SUNDAY SEEING S AND DOINGS. Ill 

I momentarily expect to hear one from some over- 
charged and sensitive heart. Instead thereof, a rich, 
tender, thrilling voice seems to grow out of the hush — 
certainly it does not break it ! — to whose wondrous 
music of tone and melody of modulation I listen en- 
tranced, for a time, without being at all cognizant of the 
sense of its words. Presently, I perceive that it is talk- 
ing quietly of the Fatherhood of God, of His unresting 
care for the Universe, His tender taking of thought for 
those who never think of Him, the lavish fall of His sun 
and rain upon the just and the unjust, and the dew-drop- 
pings of His bounty on the improvident and unthankful. 
Then, in deep, sombre, penetrating tones, it draws a 
Rembrandt-like picture of the terrible orphanage of the 
world if, by any means, the reality and the conception of 
God the Father were utterly lost and forgotten, and its 
place nUed by some cold abstraction of Law or Des- 
tiny — a picture that curdles one's very heart-blood, and 
causes one's bosom to heave and strain with an oppres- 
sive, insufferable weight of ideal woe. " Only a picture 
now, thank God ! " it says, in ineffably solemn and pity- 
ing tones, " yet certain to become, in some sort, a dread 
reality to all those, who, having despised God's mercy 
here, are cast out of the sunshine of His favor, and into 
the fire of His wrath hereafter ! " Then, suddenly 
changing to a tone of perfect, joyous faith, it sets forth 
the comfort of knowing that God is, in a special and most 
tender sense, the father of those who trust in Him, and 
how confidently all such may commit their dead to His 
gracious love ; ending with a wonderfully thrilling and 
8* 



178 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

pathetic appeal to the irreligious, by the memory, and 
for the sake, of those waiting, longing, imploring dead 
to become, in this full and final sense, His children. 
And the voice ceases just as it came, and the dark spot 
in the pulj)it, which has seemed merely a sort of nucleus 
of the nave's mighty breadth of - shadow, vanishes 
silently ! 

I know not how I got out of the church, but I found 
myself in the carriage, drawing a long breath, like one 
who has just escaped from the oppressive influence of a 
fantastic dream; — yet with a tolerably clear compre- 
hension, for the first time in my life, how it is possible 
for a being endowed with reason (provided a heart and 
an imagination are super-added to that good gift) to be 
a Roman Catholic. It is frequently said, and with truth, 
that the services of the Romish Church appeal to the 
senses ; but they also address themselves to pqmething 
better and deeper — the sweetest and strongest affections 
of the human heart ; and herein, probably, is the secret 
of their powerful hold upon women. Convince a 
mother — nay, give her a glimmer of hope, even — that 
her prayers and alms can lift the erring, lost soul of her 
child out of purgatory, and Rome has, ready made to 
her hand, the most patient, submissive, and liberal of 
disciples. 

I record this whole matter partly for the sake of the 
moral which I draw from it, — that it is scarcely worth 
while to try to beat Rome with her own weapons. She 
is an adept in stage-effects and sensuous influences, in 
the management of drapery, light and shadow, sound 



SUNDAY SEEING S AND DOINGS. 1*79 

and silence ; and her skill and unscrupulousness in using 
them, put all such attempts at a frightful disadvantage. 
Doiia Coloma sets me down at home, and then pro- 
ceeds to opera, retreta, or family reunion, as her mood 
dictates. And now, at last, a measure of quiet is vouch- 
safed to me; for the children are out or asleep, the 
servants are mostly off a-pleasuring, and the sweet, 
plaintive music of " La Sonambula," or " Lucia," soft- 
ened and spiritualized by the distance and the evening- 
hush, does not seem harshly out of keeping with the 
hour. Or, it may be that Francisca, heart-heavy with 
homesick longings for her island-home, lingers on the 
balcony, and croons to herself and the sea an old, quaint, 
pathetic Spanish hymn, whose simple melody and ex- 
quisite Reeling bring tears to my eyes. The refrain slips 
into an English dress thus : 

Woe is me ! 
'Tie I that offended Thee ! 

But the rod 
Thou did'st endure, oh, my God ! — 

albeit, the idiomatic simplicity and tenderness of the 
remainder laugh translation to scorn. The Spanish 
language is exceedingly amenable to verse, by reason 
of its wealth of idioms, its profusion of ready rhymes, 
its rich and stately rhythm, and the figurative character 
of its phraseology; but its poetry is very difficult of 
translation, — all the finer essence escapes in the process. 
The real truth being, perhaps, that its beauty is oftener 
due to music of sounds, and harmony of versification, 
than to high and sustained poetic thought. 



180 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

Of such domestic religious observances as grace at 
meals, and family prayers, I have seen nothing ; which 
is, by no means, to be admitted as indubitable evidence 
that such things do not exist. The observer in foreign 
countries is in continual danger of classifying individual 
traits as national characteristics, and cannot safely argue, 
except after a very long sojourn, that what he does not 
see is never to be seen, nor .that what he sees once is 
commonly to be seen. 

He will not go amiss, however, if he set it down in 
his note-book that an oratory, or chapel, or something 
similar, is to be found in every Cuban dwelling. My 
hostess has, in her own room, a large case of rosewood 
and glass, containing : First, a crucifix of extremely 
antique appearance, with angles and edges t^at have 
been rounded off by the teeth or tongue of Time, until it 
has greatly the aspect of a sugar-toy that has been sub- 
jected to the ordeal of an infantile mouth, being an heir- 
loom of the House of Samano, handed down from eldest 
son to eldest son through many generations, and valued 
accordingly. The scarf — I should say " sudario ! " — 
which enfolds the loins of the figure of Christ, is studded 
with family jewels, and its ends are drawn through a 
costly diamond ring, the wedding-ring of la senora. 
Secondly, a highly lugubrious-faced image, with a 
golden nimbus around its head, a veil of rare, time-yel- 
lowed lace, and a black velvet robe, garnished with 
jewels ; which represents the Virgin as the "Mother of 
Sorrows." Thirdly, a silver censer for burning incense. 
Fourthly, a silver cup, and sprinkler, for " holy water," 



SUNDAY SEEING S AND DOINGS. 181 

Fifthly, three vases of artificial flowers ; and a number 
of smaller ornaments, which need not be catalogued. 
By the side of the case are two heavy silver candelabra, 
and a dainty porcelain lamp. The flame of the latter is 
never suffered f o expire ; all the day and night long, its 
small glow admonishes the bystanders to keep their 
spiritual lamps trimmed and burning. Its care is one 
of the religious duties of the mistress of the household, 
and I think I never saw a face of greater consternation 
than she exhibited one day, w T hen a mischievous puff of 
wind (or might it have been the disembodied, but still 
militant spirit of some grim old Roundhead !) during a 
" norther," made a sly, swift dart at the flame and in- 
stantly extinguished it. 

She calls this case a " chapel," and as she plainly 
considers it a sacred spot, wherein she sees typified the 
whole life, death, and teaching of Christ, and through 
which grace and benediction flow unto Jier and her 
household, I am half-ashamed that I can associate it 
with nothing but a show-case on Broadway, filled with 
dolls and trinkets for sale. This comes of difference in 
education. To her it is eloquent with signs and sugges- 
tions of holy things, and she says her prayers and tells 
her beads before it, doubtless, with faith and fervor. 
And if I smile to see, it is not in scorn, be it understood, 
neither with any assumption of superiority; but with 
an irresistibly amused recognition of the naive and 
childlike nature that finds help in such devotional lad- 
ders, and with a thankful remembrance of that good 
grace which maketh us to differ. For no man can say, 



182 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

positively, that if the providence of God had placed him, 
at birth, within the vast, powerful machine of the 
Church of Rome, he would not have come forth moulded 
and chiselled to the pattern of the devoutest of her dis- 
ciples. And one may hope that all fervent prayer finds 
out the Father at last, no matter how many forms of 
Virgin and Saint stand in the way. Happy, neverthe- 
less, are all they who look straight up to the ineffable 
glory of the Godhead, when they pray ; and behold the 
transfigured Humanity of the Son, unobscured by any 
image of the Mother — the woman, — who is, be it allowed, 
much better adapted to the genius and purposes of 
Home, in the way of bedizenment, exhibition, and senti- 
mental adoration. 

But there is another aspect of this " chapel " which 
I should regret to nri^ss, embodying a lesson good for me 
and all Protestants, — that spirit of loving sacrifice, that 
willing offering of one's most precious things to God, 
which does,Wn truth, dignify it with a sort of conse- 
cration. Manifestly, the Senora has not given of that 
which cost her nothing. Her own wedding-ring blazes 
on the crucifix, her cherished family jewels adorn the 
Virgin, and the solid silver candelabra were recently 
imported from Spain, expressly for this purpose. And 
these things are given, not lent, — never again to be 
appropriated to any secular 'use or adornment. What- 
ever you may think of the fitness of the gift, its pre- 
ciousness must be allowed, and the grace of self-denial 
which prompted it. And every shrine, every altar of 
the Romish Church, tells the same story of self-sacrificing 



SUNDAY SEEINGS AND DOINGS. 183 

devotion. It wore well for the wliole Protestant world, 
if more of this spirit animated the hearts of its people, 
and were visible in its churches ; if its gold and silver 
were oftener wrought into cross-tipped towers that 
should lift all humble and serious souls with Divine aspi- 
ration and joyful faith ; if its labor were crystallized into 
walls that should be eloquent with silent ascription and 
vocal with spoken praise, for all coming generations ; if 
the light and color of its gems were fused into the 
tender glory of stained windows, that should tell the 
stories of apostles and martyrs, or keep in remembrance 
solemn truths, through the lovely blazonry of emblem 
and symbol, for millions of eyes that are to open out 
of the future, and for whose education and destiny 
we are in some measure, responsible. The surplus jewels 
of our women, the costly upholstery and frippery of our 
houses — things that too frequently vulgarize rather 
than beautify them — would build a church in every 
village that should be a joy to the eyes, and a comfort 
and stay to the hearts, of all that looked upon it ! 



CHAPTER XIX. 

THE ENTRANCE AND EXIT OF LENT. 

""VTO history of a Cuban winter would be complete, 
without some mention of the gayeties of the Car- 
nival, and the solemnities of Holy .Week. The former 
seldom get well- under way until Quinquagesima Sunday. 
On the afternoon and evening of that day the whole city, 
apparently, gave itself up to fun, frolic, and folly. The 
streets and the paseo were flooded with maskers, mum- 
mers, and spectators, on foot or in carriages ; while ladies 
in full dress, and children in every variety of youthful 
bedizenment, crowded the windows and balconies, to 
watch the ebb and flow of the fantastic tide. 

The popular fancy seemed to run chiefly in the chan- 
nels of noise and grotesqueness, overlooking the softer 
attractions of the picturesque and the humorous,— a 
tolerably, certain indication that the lower classes had 
the masking and the active merry-making pretty much 
to themselves. Everywhere there were men disguised 
as women and women disguised as men, negroes simu- 
lating whites and whites simulating negroes, while im- 
possible noses, chins, beards, and paunches, were the rule 
rather than the exception. Beasts and birds were numer- 
ous, and especially effective in point of vocalism ; there 



THE ENTRANCE AND EXIT OF LENT. 185 

were counterfeit donkeys that brayed, lions that roared, 
cocks that crowed, dogs that howled, and apes that 
chattered, in a way to shame the real article into silence 
forever. Instruments of music and of discord alike 
helped to swell the uproar; about every third mask 
twanged a guitar, or sawed a fiddle, or tooted a horn, or 
banged a tin pan, or rattled a gourd, or belabored a 
drum, with a zeal and zest wonderful to behold. Scores 
of these organized themselves into callithumpian bands, 
and paraded the streets, doing great execution upon 
sensitive tympanums. Scarcely less noisy were certain 
jn'ocessions (of which I saw two or three), consisting of 
a grotesquely costumed leader, holding aloft an immense 
rat in a casre, and screaming " Catch this rat ! " at the 
top of his voice ; and followed by a double file of demo- 
niacs, all frantically yelling in chorus, and in every variety 
of intonation from a squeal to a roar, " Catch that rat ! 
Catch that rat ! " These seemed to divide the popular 
favor with processions headed by a band of music, and 
made up of the most diverse and grotesque masks that 
could be coupled together. Conspicuous among these 
was an extremely tall man carefully arrayed as a fashion- 
able belle, with gorgeous fan and preposterous train, 
arm in arm with a tiny woman in male attire, whose coat 
tails almost reached to her heels ; the one playing the 
part of a coquettish maiden, and the other of a devoted 
and persistent swain, in apparent unconsciousness either 
of the spectators surging around them, or of the plaudits 
and peals of laughter that everywhere greeted their 
performance. Bringing up the rear of one of these pro- 



186 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

cessions was an enormous negro, in a gilded circle repre- 
senting the sun, who amused himself with reflecting the 
rays of the real luminary into all the eyes in his neighbor- 
hood, by means of an ingenious arrangement of small 
mirrors, and grinned broadly whenever the victim 
manifested annoyance. 

In the vicinity of the plaza, maskers, promenaders, 
volantes, and carriages, were so wedged together as to 
seem absolutely solid. However, by dint of patience, 
vigilance, and audacity, Amavedo slowly brought us to 
one corner of the crowded square, which we found to be 
flanked with movable kitchens for the preparation of 
dainties acceptable to the popular taste, and booths and 
tables for the selling an d eating thereof. Fruit stands 
seemed also to be doing a thriving business; the owner 
of one of which vainly strove to tempt me with a string 
of small, withered, tough-looking, red apples, from my 
native shores. Vainly, — though I really cannot tell 
whether it was disgust at their uninviting aspect, or 
mortification at the sorry figure they made beside the 
fresh and luscious tropical fruits, or a rush of homesick 
memories, that forced me to turn my eyes away from 
them as quickly as possible. But I could not shut my 
ears to.the following dialogue close to the carriage wheel. 

" Caramba, Jose ! " {in the high shrill tones of a 
paisano) — " what kind of things are those ? " 

Jose (hesitatingly). " I — I — ah — ah — is it fruit ? " 

Fruit-seller {taking up the theme with animation). 
"Apples! caballeros! Fine, fresh apples! just in from 
the United States ! Selling like smoke, too — these are 



THE ENTRANCE AND EXIT OF LENT. 187 

all I have left! Try some? {insinuatingly) only ten 
cents each ! " 

Two apples are bought. The next remark is from 
Jose, mingled with sounds of spitting and spluttering, — 

" Caramba ! Tomas ! what sort of people must they 
be who have no better fruit to eat than that ! " 

Tomas [munching slowly and critically). "I don't 
know (munches)— on the whole (munches) — I think I 
rather like it. You see (munches) — it isn't eaten in a 
hurry, and I always did like something to chew at ! " 

In this quarter, the masks were thicker and noisier 
than ever, yet I saw but one worthy of note — a Falstaff 
of such unwieldy proportions that it required three or 
four good natured friends to set him in motion, after 
every stoppage ; but when once fairly under way, the 
crowd rolled back from his bluff sides like waves from a 
headland. At one corner of the plaza, a small space had 
been cleared, where somebody was continually going off 
into waltzes, jigs, or the favorite danza criolla, with a 
constant change of partners and musicians. And once 
or twice, a number of strange masks joined hands, and 
danced slowly round and round in a circle, accompanying 
themselves with a monotonous and even mournful chant, 
which had an almost funereal effect amid the prevailing 
fun and frenzy. It was a touch of the skeleton at the 
antique feasts — the inevitable suggestion of sorrow 
breaking up through all human mirth, yet investing it 
with a still stronger characteristic of mad, reckless 
jollity. 

Occasionally, too, there was a strange pause in the 



188 MY WINTER IK CUBA. 

merriment, a contagious silence spread itself throughout 
the crowd, as if every individual therein had suddenly 
stopped to consider whether this furious revel was really 
worth his while, — whether it were possible to distil any 
drop of tne true essence of enjoyment from this noisy 
ebullition of folly. And then the hubbub began again, 
forced and fitful at first, but gradually swelling louder 
and louder, till it seemed that every voice in the vast 
throng must lend its aid to the mighty aggregate of 
sound ; while every face, young or old, white or black, 
beautiful or ugly, was lit up by a smile or broadened by 
a grin. 

Yet, at best, it was plain to see that only the lower 
ranks of society gave themselves up heartily to the spirit 
of the hereditary festival. The higher classes might 
now and then dip briefly into the frolic; in the person of 
some youthful representative; but, for the most part, 
they contented themselves with looking on and laughing. 
It would seem that the motley show of the carnival, 
coming down to us from a ruder and simpler age, is best 
suited to rude and simple tastes. Flowing through the 
midst of the modern civilization, it still keeps its ancient 
hue and tone. For every mask, every absurdity, every 
fantasy, which is the sportive effluence of the present 
day, there are a hundred bearing the stamp of the broad, 
ancient humor ; and whereat so many buried generations 
have laughed as to make them more melancholy than 
mirthful, in all thoughful eyes. 

Certain it is, that in the present instance, scarce any 
but negroes and children followed the sport with un- 



THE ENTRANCE AND EXIT OF LENT. 189 

flagging interest to the end. For myself, the limit to my 
enjoyment of grotesqueness and extravaganza being 
always quickly reached, I was glad when, on Tuesday at 
midnight, the last masker left tne street, the last peal of 
laughter died away into the wholesome quietude of 
Lent. 

During this season, the bells seem to ring almost con- 
stantly, and the services are numerous. Perhaps the 
church accommodation of Matanzas is not so inadequate 
as it first appears: it must be taken into consideration 
that its three houses of worship stand always open for 
the use of penitent or pilgrim, that it has a daily ser- 
vice, and that, on Sundays and all important feasts and 
fasts, one mass continually follows another, with a fresh 
priest and a new congregation, from early morn to 
dusky eve. Certainly, I never saw any of the churches 
overcrowded — or even well filled — except on occasions 
of unusual spectacular attraction. The ordinary Lenten 
services appeared to be but thinly attended, and the 
Lenten rule of life somewhat less strict than is usual in 
Roman Catholic countries. Nobody within the scope of 
my observation, abstained from the use of meat, except 
on the two last days of Holy Week. I had already 
noticed that no one seemed to think a fish diet obliga- 
tory on Fridays ; and when I ventured to express my 
surprise thereat, I was told that Innocent VIII., in the 
fifteenth century, granted an unlimited dispensation 
from Friday fasting to the whole Spanish nation, in 
requital of their final expulsion of the Moors ; which 
grace the Cubans inherit by right of lineal descent. I 



190 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

tell the tale as it was told me, not having taken the 
trouble to verify the statement. 

Palm Sunday was observed by fastening the graceful 
leaves of the royal palm into doors and windows ; and 
the devout wore bits of them on their bosoms or carried 
them in their hands. Often, they were braided into 
crosses, stars, rosettes, bracelets, and other pretty de- 
vices, by the skilful fingers of the ladies ; who first have 
them blessed by a priest, and then bestow them upon 
their friends. 

From the forenoon of Maunday Thursday until 
Easter morning, the city breathes an almost oppressive 
atmosphere of stillness and gloom. The bells are for- 
bidden to ring, — the clocks, even, are prevented from 
striking the hours. Not a vehicle of any sort whatever 
is allowed in the streets; business is necessarily sus- 
pended ; guards and sentinels march with arms reversed ; 
flags are at half-mast ; women attired all in black pass 
slowly through the streets on their way to church; it 
seems a city suddenly overtaken by some dire and wide- 
spread calamity. 

On Good Friday, the churches are all hung with 
funereal drapery, pictures and images veiled, flowers, 
tinsel, and whatever is bright and cheerful of tone, 
covered or removed. The Cathedral is like a vast, dim 
tomb, filled with black-robed mourners. Such, at least, 
is its surface aspect, and it is hardly worth our while to 
look beneath. All day long, services are going on 
within its walls ; and echoes of its solemn chants drift 
far down the silent streets. At dusk, a life-like repre- 



THE ENTRANCE AND EXIT OF LENT 191 

sentation of the dead Christ, on a large "black-draped 
catafalque, is borne through the city, followed by a vast 
procession of priests, religious orders, charitable soci- 
eties, civic and military bodies, and multifarious ranks 
of men, women, and children. On this occasion alone, 
of the whole year, the entire population may be seen in 
the streets and on foot, without exception of class, color, 
sex, or age. The millionaire elbows the slave; the 
silken robe of the countess touches, on one side, the 
unfragrant rags of poverty, and on the other, the piti- 
able garments of shame. There is a continuous, inartic- 
ulate murmur, like the roar of the sea, and there are 
occasional ripples of .the elaborate crossing, before 
described, — but.no loud talking nor laughter, no rude- 
ness nor quarrelling, no tumultuous swaying to and fro 
of the dense human tide, no noticeable disorder of any 
sort. Nevertheless, decorous as the crowd appears, and 
devout as some few of its members undoubtedly sire, 
there is a nameless something about it, in gross, be- 
tokening that it is come hither to enjoy a show, a spec- 
tacle, an objective display, rather than to take part in a 
heartfelt, religious rite. It is law and custom that have 
shut the shops and stopped the pulsations of trade and 
commerce, it is official obligation, on the one hand, and 
love of parade and excitement, on the other, which have 
filled the ranks of that immense procession ; it is partly 
the prospect of scenic display, and partly the social in- 
stinct, which have packed together this vast concourse 
of spectators. 

And in truth it is a sight worth seeing ! — the long 



192 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

river of wavering lights, shining on priestly robe and 
monastic gown, on civic pomp and insignia, on military 
uniforms and society banners ; and flowing between dark 
banks of spectators, wherein young and old, rich and 
poor, dusky and fair, stand side by side under the clear- 
eyed stars and the tender, tropical sky ! I wish I had 
bethought me to go through the crowd with a note- 
book, sketching a representative character here and 
there; the result must needs have been a gallery of 
portraits far better worth jjreserving than the caricatures 
of the carnival ; but I did not, and in my memory the 
multifarious throng becomes a dusky, indistinguishable 
human mass. At least, the only figure which comes 
forth prominently to my mind's eye, is that of a massive 
negress, planted solidly upon a street corner, with a 
gigantic cigar in her mouth, and a broad, unctuous 
aspect of the serenest satisfaction. It would seem, to 
look at her, that the whole spectacle had been designed 
for her exclusive benefit. 

The procession, having finished its course, disap- 
peared from view, but the crowd seemed loth to leave 
the streets. At eleven, it was still surging to and fro, 
and I went to sleep by its murmur. 

Early on Easter-Even, I was roused by a wild uproar 
without, — a mingling of shouts of anger and execration 
with sounds of blows and pistol-shots, that seemed 
serious. With visions of riot and revolution and slave 
insurrection chasing one another swiftly through my 
brain, I made a headlong toilet, and rushed to the 
balcony. There I beheld a wretched effigy dragged 



THE ENTRANCE AND EXIT OF LENT. 193 

through the street, by a rope round its neck, and fol- 
lowed and set upon by a mob that spat upon it, that 
beat it with sticks and brooms, that cut it with knives 
and riddled it with pistol-balls, — that, in short, lavished 
upon it every cruelty and indignity which human in- 
genuity could devise. 

"What does it mean?" I asked, wonderingly, of 
Doiia Coloma, who soon joined me. 

"It is Judas, the betrayer of our Lord," she ans- 
wered, gravely. 

The disgusting scene was closed by hanging the 
effigy from the highest attainable post ; where it served 
as a target for mischievous boys and idle negroes, until 
fairly annihilated by persistent persecution. This was 
accomplished ere noon, when the Lenten quietude once 
more settled over the city. 

But with the breaking of Easter morning, lo ! what a 
change ! In an instant, as it seems, the city passes from 
the extremity of gloom to the extremity of joy. Bells 
peal — trumpets sound — flags wave — drums beat — salutes 
are fired from the forts, and the ships in the harbor — 
vokmtes, drays, victorias, whatever goes on wheels, 
dash noisily through the streets — friends exchange glad 
greetings, — it is an universal chorus of rejoicing. The 
risen Christ is borne through the city in triumphal pro- 
cession, and returns to the cathedral in season for a 
gorgeous scenic service. And let me not forget to note 
that, for the first time in this " Island of Flowers " — as 
it is poetically named — I saw the altars and shrines 
decorated with fresh, fragrant, natural blossoms, in 
9 



194 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

place of the gaudy and scentless imitations usually 
found there. A Cubana would fain persuade me that 
the latter, representing more skill and money, are the 
worthier offering. I am slow to accept the conclusion. 
Even here, fresh flowers of the rarer varieties, offered 
daily, would cost more, in care and labor, than their 
waxen and muslin counterfeits, seldom renewed, and 
often faded by time and dingy with dust. And the gain 
in artistic beauty, in poetic sentiment and spiritual har- 
mony, would be incalculable. Yet a second thought 
compels me to admit that I may here be talking non- 
sense. There is so little that is fresh and natural in the 
Romish ritual, that the use of artificial flowers may have 
grown out of a nicer, deeper sense of fitness than I 
possess. 

It would be pleasant to close our account of Easter 
rejoicings here. But the faithful chronicle must needs 
state furthermore that, with its unwonted religious ani- 
mation and cheerfulness, the city also assumed an un- 
usual activity of secular business and pleasure. The 
shoj)S were temptingly open, street-venders were noisy 
and busy, the paseo was crowded, the retreta exception- 
ally brilliant, in the afternoon there was a bull-fight at 
the Plaza de Toros y and in the evening an operatic 
performance at the Teatro Esteban. So I was told, at 
least, — for I verified none of these statements save by 
observations from my balcony. But thence I witnessed 
so many profane sights, and heard so many profane 
sounds, that further confirmation was unnecessary. 



CHAPTER XX. 

COSAS DE CUBA. 

/COUNTRIES, like individuals, have certain ways and 
habits peculiar to themselves, neither the origin 
nor the utility of which is always patent to others. 
Often, the fact that they exist is the best reason assign- 
able for their existence. In Spain these things have 
been happily termed, cosas de JEspana. I borrow the 
title, with an obvious variation, for a chapter devoted to 
such Cuban peculiarities as do not come easily under 
other heads. 

And first, the climate. Anything more delicious can 
scarcely be conceived of. It does not smile at you one 
day and frown at you the next, aujowcPhui voire servi- 
teur et demain Judas, after the changeable fashion of 
our northern summer ; but day after day of genial warmth 
and unclouded splendor unfold before you, more intox- 
icatingly sweet and surpassingly fair as the season 
advances. The terms " winter " and " spring " seem 
almost to lose their significance in a land always green 
with verdure, fragrant with bloom, and luscious with 
fruit. A better division of the Cuban year is into 
two seasons, the wet and the dry. The former begins 



196 MY WIXTEK IX CUBA. 

late in May, and lasts till October. During its contin- 
uance, there are daily showers, often accompanied by 
thunder and lightning; which serve to moderate in some 
degree the extreme heat. After them the sun shines out 
bright, the air is both fresh and soft, the verdure seems 
new-created, flowers open and scatter their perfume 
everywhere, and the afternoon drive is a delight. The 
dry season stretches from the first of October to the end 
of May, during which rain is of rare occurrence, the 
variations of temperature slight, the days all gold and 
sapphire, the nights all silver and amethyst, — indeed, 
says Frederika Bremer, " there could not be more beauti- 
ful nights in Paradise." To be sure, chill winds known 
as los nortes do now and then blow from the north, 
during the winter months, lasting, possibly, for forty- 
eight hours, whereat the Cubans shiver and grumble 
exceedingly ; but the Northerner, accustomed to winds 
of much austerer temper, scarce minds them at all. Still, 
it is well to protect one's self by extra clothing, during 
their continuance, as colds for the careless are apt to 
come in their train. The mean temperature of the island, 
throughout the year, is declared to be eighty degrees ; 
during the hottest months, eighty-three. In the middle 
of the day, it is generally quite warm enough to make 
rest, idleness, refrescos, and siestas, agreeable ; though 
the heat is much mitigated by the sea-breeze, which reg- 
ularly rises about ten o'clock, and subsides at four. 
Then, a delicious breeze from the land, fragrant with 
the breath of innumerable flowers, springs up ; and the 
nights are rarely so warm as to interfere with sleep. It 



COS AS DE CUBA. 197 

will be recollected, also, that the houses and habits of 
life are arranged to suit the climate: spacious rooms, 
lofty, wide-open doors and windows, marble and stone 
floors, cane-seated furniture, the cooling refrescos always 
at hand, the custom of doing all out-door business before 
breakfast, — all these things make the problem " How-to- 
keep-cool " much easier of solution than we are apt to 
find it during the hottest part of our northern summer. 

Cuban courtesy is perfection itself, to outward ap- 
pearance ; but some of it turns out to be veneering and 
not true wood, on examination- When I call upon any 
of Dona Coloma's friends, I am told, with a sweeping, 
all-comprising gesture, — " This house is your home ; it, 
and everything it contains, are at your disposal." Ren- 
dered into plain English, this means, simply, "I am 
glad to see you ; pray call again." If it becomes neces- 
sary for me to ask, " Whose book is this ? Whose any- 
thing is this ? " the reply (if from the owner thereof) must 
needs be, " Mine, and yours also." If I express admira- 
tion of anything, — no matter what, horses, furniture, 
ornaments, the dress which my friend is wearing, — the 
invariable response is, " Take it, it is yours," or, " It is 
entirely at your disposal." This seems lavishly, and 
even embarrassingly, generous, until you learn that its 
English equivalent would be, " I am glad that you ad- 
mire it." I remember an amusing little scene, in point. 
The elder Senora Samano received a birthday gift of an 
embroidered handkerchief from her daughter, which she 
exhibited to Dona Mariquilla and myself, with a beam- 
ing face ; and as we offered the expected meed of admi- 



198 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

ration, she repeated to each of us the usual formula, "It 
is yours," and then composedly folded it up and put it 
in her pocket, utterly oblivious of the fact that she had 
twice given it away ! 

Occasionally, some foreigner, more obtuse than the 
generality, accepts the gift thus offered, and the Cuban 
is forced to surrender it, or to explain that his phrase- 
ology will not bear too literal a construction ! I must 
do him the justice to state that he chooses the former 
course, unless the article in question is of great value 
or indispensable necessity. Indeed, report says that a 
certain Havana nabob, being thus unexpectedly taken 
at his word, and too proud to retract, did actually send 
his fine carriage and horses, with his compliments, to 
the door of the simple-minded American who had ac- 
cepted them ! 

One Cuban custom impresses me pleasantly — children 
always kiss the hands of their parents by way of saluta- 
tion and leave-taking ; the kiss on the mouth may follow 
if they choose. It is in strong contrast with the rude 
familiarity one too often sees in American children, 
Doiia Coloma lifts the hand of her mother to her* lips 
with a pretty air of reverent tenderness, and the stately 
old lady receives her homage with the dignified gracious- 
ness of a benignant sovereign ; while I, looking on, am 
deeply touched by the beauty and fitness of the custom, 
its evident rendering of that honor to parents to which 
God has attached the promise of " long days in the 
land." 

A young colored-girl, in gala-day attire, entered the 



COSAS BE CUBA. 109 

sala one evening, and with many courtesies and compli- 
ments, presented each member of the family a bit of gay 
ribbon, folded together, with a knot at one end, and a silver 
coin at the other. This was a pretty way of giving 
notice that a christening had taken place in the family 
of an acquaintance. On one side of the ribbon was 
printed the child's name, and the date of birth, and on 
the other the names of the padrinos, or sponsors. When 
the godfather, whose duty it is to provide these things, 
is very wealthy, the coin affixed is of gold. 

Apropos to this : one of the house-servants had the 
honor to stana as godmother to the child of a friend 
recently, and after the ceremony was over, she brought 
her godchild to exhibit to us, in its christening finery. 
And very fine, indeed, I thought it, in its robe of white 
satin, and lace overdress, with a dainty frill around^ its 
small olive-colored face ; but a closer inspection showed 
that this elegant toilet was a compound that would not 
bear resolving. The satin and lace robe was only a sort 
of apron, looking extremely well as long as the infant 
was held right side out in the nurse's arms ; but on its 
being reversed, a quite unexpected background to so fair 
a picture was presented, of which the most noticeable 
feature was a dingy brown flannel petticoat ! 

Cuban children, white and black, are evidently con- 
sidered to be yet in a state of paradisiacal innocence, 
and are clothed— or unclothed — accordingly. Rafael, 
Christinita, and Ramona, are running about " sublimely 
in the nude," as Aurora Leigh hath it, for a good part of 
the time ; ready to serve, at short notice, for tableaux of 



200 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

Cupid or the Cherubim. One who has not had the 
advantage of being brought up to that sort of thing, 
cannot wholly enjoy their poses when the gentlemen are 
about : nevertheless, one of the very finest pictures in 
my Cuban gallery is the naked Christinita in the arms of 
her black nurse, and both fast asleep in a large chair ; 
the fair, rounded outlines and delicate features of the 
Caucasian child being strongly contrasted with the 
black, brawny arm and coarse traits of the African 
woman. A better subject for painter's skill is rarely 
seen. Excellent types of two widely different, yet 
strangely associated, races ; the ignorant, brute fidelity 
of the slave touchingly apparent in the close embrace 
wherewith, even in her slumber, she holds the child to 
her bosom ; the fine lines of whose fair figure and promi- 
nent brow speak clearly of a more delicate organization, 
a higher intellect, a richer cultivation. I know not how 
long I stood musing before these eloquent figures — so 
long that even the rude perceptions of the negress felt 
the magnetism of my steady gaze, and she woke to stam- 
mer an excuse for being caught sleeping in the " sala." 

Nor is nudity confined to the day only. Night after 
night I have seen the little ones laid, stark naked, on 
their hard beds, under a mosquito net, and left to go to 
sleep without other covering than the soft air. The 
dreamy journey being accomplished, a linen sheet may 
or may not be drawn over them, at the discretion of the 
nurse. It must be confessed that they thrive on this 
regimen. Healthier children, or more finely developed 
forms, are not to be found. 



COSAS DE CUBA. 201 

Next to no costume naturally comes thin costume. I 
have seen a boy of six years old, clad in pantaloons and 
blouse of sheer, white muslin, — nothing else — as I hope 
to be believed ! 

Moreover, if there be need of the services of a 
painter, whitcwasher, or carpenter, in any Cuban dwel- 
ling, let not the foreign visitor be surprised nor dis- 
concerted to see his shirt worn carelessly outside his 
pants ! It is cooler thus, and less restraint upon motion. 
And time will teach her that, so far from having any 
cause to complain of his fashion of wearing the garment, 
she has reason to be thankful that he is not in his sldn 
only, from his waist upwards. 

One odd Cuban custom was made known to me 
through the medium of a tall, sullen-looking negress, 
named Rosa, once hired to assist in the laundry. Scarce 
a week of her occupancy had gone by, ere Ricardo, 
lynx-eyed in detecting offences and offenders, came to 
report that he suspected her of stealing. "Bring me 
proofs, not suspicions," responded his mistress, curtly. 
Two days after, the proofs were forthcoming, in the 
shape of an odd assortment of coals, candles, crackers, 
towels, stockings, thread, etc., etc., which the Chinaman 
had ferreted out of some secret corner and spread in 
order upon the dining-room table, like a collection of 
curiosities. 

" Put them back where you found them, and send 
Rosa to me," said la sefiora, after a brief inspection. 

The woman shortly appeared, glancing around her 
suspiciously. 



202 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

" Whore did you tell me that you worked last?" 
asked Dona Coloma, quietly. 

"At Madruga, senora." 

" Why did you leave there ? " 

" I could not get any more work." 

" Take off your turban." 

The negress started back with a cry of alarm and 
remonstrance. 

The seiiora made a slight, significant gesture; and 
Atanasia, who was standing near, snatched off the 
turban ere the wearer comprehended what she was 
about. With it came an artistic padding of moss, doing 
duty for hair ; and underneath was a bare-shaven poll ! 

" Enough," said Doiia Coloma, " pay her her wages, 
and send her off." 

And thus I learned that all blacks detected in thiev- 
ing, even children, are immediately shaven; which 
brands them sufficiently, for a time, at least. It is not 
uncommon, in hiring strange negresses, to request them 
to take off their turbans, — a precaution which, in this 
instance, had been unwisely omitted. 

Set it down as a creditable cosa de Cuba that intoxi- 
cation is either very rare, or kept out of sight. I have 
not yet seen a case of it. The nearest approach there- 
unto was a negro, who went past the house singing 
noisily one night , and was, apparently, put under an 
extinguisher by the sereno at the corner. 

Every resident of Cuba is required to give notice to 
the proper official of any change of domicil; of every 
increase or . diminution of his household, whether by 



COS AS BE CUBA. 203 

birth, death, arrival and departure of guests, lodgers, 
et ccetera ; and of all reunions, balls, parties, and other 
large entertainments, that he proposes to give ; — in all 
which matters the government takes a lively interest. 
And if he is wise, he will put his name to no petitions, 
— certainly to none signed by more than two of his 
neighbors, — lest he furnish ground for an accusation of 
conspiracy and sedition, and consequent arrest and trial. 

Moreover, if he wishes to engage in building, or 
repairs, he must first procure, and pay for, a license. 
But he must not construe this into an unlimited pel-mis- 
sion to blockade the street, and endanger the lives of 
unwary passers by. Wherever, at night, a pile of brick, 
stone, or plank, a mortar-bed, a gap in the pavement, or 
other nuisance occasioned by building, is found in a 
Cuban street; it will also be found to be surmounted 
by a pole and a lantern, making it visible afar off, 
and allowing its exact nature and extent to be seen 
and avoided. Any failure to set up this beacon is 
punishable by a heavy fine. The blockade will a^so be 
scrupulously limited to one third of the narrow street. 
What would New Yorkers, accustomed to obstruct their 
thoroughfares with building materials, and to tumble 
over them, at their own sweet will, say to restrictions 
such as these ? 

Of all cosas de Cicba, none is so irksome to ladies 
from the United States as the social edict which confines 
them so much within doors, forbidding them to drive 
or ride with other male friend than husband, father, or 
brother; and debarring them from walking, except to 



204 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

church, and then only under the protection of page, or 
duenna, or near male relative. Nor is this law to be 
violated with impunity, as I* have reason to know. For 
one morning, Juan, having occasion to drive out in a 
buggy, invited me to accompany him, little thinking 
what a commotion so simple a proceeding was to excite. 
No sooner did we appear in the streets than everybody 
— men, women, and children, — stopped to gaze, as if 
spellbound; — people at the windows called to those 
within to come and look, and they who were called 
came, in every variety of dress and undress, and with 
every sort of implement, stopping not to don* or drop 
anything. One man ran in his shirt only, women rushed 
to the windows with streaming hair, cooks came with 
frying-pans in hand, laundresses with flat irons, clerks 
with goods, and the merchant with his pen. They 
shouted — they laughed — they gesticulated — they gazed 
in open-mouthed wonder — they seemed to have gone 
stark, staring mad. We might have been tracked 
through the city by the dazed, wondering, excited faces 
that we left behind us. The thing was so ridiculous 
that it was impossible not to laugh ; yet it was unpleas- 
ant, too, to be the subject of so much amazed and 
jeering comment, and I uttered an emphatic resolve to 
try the buggy no more. But Juan decreed otherwise. 
" We are neither of us Cubans," said he, " and in this 
matter, there is no good reason why we should be bound 
by their senseless customs. A morning drive, now and 
then, will do you good. And the people will soon get 
accustomed to the sight. A nine days' wonder never 



COS AS BE CUBA. 205 

lasts ten." Which conclusion proved to be drawn from 
the fount of wisdom. Long ere its ninth appearance, 
the buggy, with its freight, was suffered to go and come 
through the city as unnoticed as any market wagon. 

The Cuban way of attracting attention is by means 
of a sharp, sibillant sound, best represented by the let- 
ters, "P-s-t!" With this, servants are summoned, 
volantes stopped, street venders signaled, children called 
to order, and the notice of friend or stranger arrested. 
The Cuban mode of beckoning also differs from ours. 
The hand is held up with the palm outwards, and the 
fingers moved in a way that we should be certain to 
interpret as a sign to depart and be seen no more. 

A noticeable cosa de Matanzas is the prevalence 
of images of the Virgin, one or more of which seems 
to be enshrined in every dwelling. It occurred to 
me to wonder whence these things came, and to ask if 
they constituted a regular branch of trade. To which 
Don Enrique replied, that they were much more common 
than formerly, owing to the fact that a neighboring com- 
mission and shipping house not long since received from 
Spain, to its great surprise and disgust, a large consign- 
ment of particularly ugly undressed dolls. Such, at 
least, they were at first supposed to be ; but they proved 
to be invoiced as " Virgenes santisimas " — that is to say, 
representations of the Virgin. Scarcely better pleased 
with this view of the case, the firm nevertheless decided 
to put a good face on it, and duly advertised for sale, 
" Virgenes santisimas, direct from Spain." The rush 
that followed was beyond anything ever seen in Matan- 



206 MY WINTJSn 18 CUBA. 

zas. The street leading to the warehouse was literally- 
packed with volantes, wherein the fairest aristocracy 
of the city and suburbs patiently waited their turn 
to be served (to say nothing of humbler custom- 
ers) ; and the whole lot of images was sold out at a 
handsome profit, long before the demand ceased ; — each 
purchaser triumphantly bearing off her prize, to be fitted 
for use by being first decked in costly array, and then 
presented to a priest for consecration. 

The dowry of a widow in Cuba consists of one half 
the gain made during the years of wedlock. For ex- 
ample, a neighbor recently died, leaving property valued 
at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars ; he was worth 
thirty thousand at his marriage; the widow's share, 
therefore, was one hundred and ten thousand. This is 
giving direct and fitting testimony to the value of the 
wife's assistance to her husband ; in advice, encourage- 
ment, economy, etc., and seemed to me more just than 
the "third" apportioned to her use by our laws. But 
if there be no increase ? " Ay, there's the rub !" 

Insect-life in Cuba is abundant and manifold, but 
when it develops in the shape of ar arias peludas (hairy 
spiders) two inches long, and long-tailed scorpions vic- 
ious and spiteful enough to contain, the combined venom 
of a whole generation of metemsychosed wasps, one 
prefers to examine it post mortem. To ants, however, I 
have become so accustomed that I do not always take 
the trouble to brush them off the articles which I ani 
using ; though I do object to have my washstand pitcher 
chosen by a whole colony bent on suicide, as a conven- 



COSAS BE CUBA. 207 

lent means of- quitting this sphere of existence. As for 
cockroaches, I have a suspicion that the floor of my 
room is alive with them o' nights ; and scouts are fre- 
quently seen drawing a bee-line across the white marble 
slabs of the sala, on warm evenings, which no one 
seems to -think it worth while to arrest. Mosquitoes 
appear to be but little troublesome to the natives, during 
the daytime; but they come in swarms to enjoy the flavor 
of what Dona Coloma calls the "thicker blood" of 
northern visitors, — a musical throng of them generally 
hovering around me when I am at work, while my com- 
panions are left unmolested. 

But a really beautiful and interesting insect is the 
cocullo, or firefly of the West Indies, two of which I 
now have upon my table in an impromptu cage. Very 
docile are they in my hands, — to whose touch they seem 
to have become pleasantly accustomed ; — taking kindly 
to a diet of moist sugar in lieu of the sugar-cane .which 
is their natural food, and accepting a semi-daily bath in 
my wash-basin ^th much apparent enjoyment, floating 
about in the water for several minutes, and then spread- 
ing their legs and feelers as a sign that they are ready 
to come out. They are a sufficiently unattractive bug 
in their unillumined state, being of a dingy, earth-brown 
color, and about the shape and size of a large cock- 
roach ; but they become so glorified by the irradiation 
of those wondrous orbs of phosphorescent light which 
they carry about on their shoulders, that children 
scream with delight at the sight of them, and ladies 
make pets of them as I do, and even use them for orna- 



208 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

merits on some occasions. I once saw a lady at the 
retretciy with a coronet, stomacher, and bracelets of 
them, and all the crown jewels of Spain could not have 
made her so resplendent. Their light is not a momen- 
tary flash, like that of our northern fire-fly; but it is 
emitted in a brilliant, steady ray,, at will, and is of ex- 
treme beauty of tint, being of a slightly greenish yellow 
from one point of view, and of a pale red from another. 
It is a touching fact that the poorer classes are furnished 
with a most beautiful and inexpensive light for night- 
watchings, when sickness visits their dwellings, by con- 
fining a half-dozen cocullos in a cage, and suspending 
them from the ceiling.* 

Is it known to the medical world that the Chinese 
(in Cuba, at least) are wont to vaccinate in the tip of the 
nose ? Doiia Tomasita informs me that her coolie ser- 
vant has recently undergone the operation at the hands 
of an -expert of his own race, and is carrying about " a 
nose as big as a cocoa-nut." She further assures me that 

* It may interest some reader to know that the cocullos "will 
bear transportation to the United States. The pair above-men- 
tioned crossed the Gulf with me, and were my fellow-travellers 
for a month at the South. As it was necessary to carry them 
openly by hand, in order to attend to their wants and give them 
sufficient air, they attracted an almost annoying amount of atten- 
tion in cars, steamboats, and hotels, as soon as nightfall brought 
out their splendor ; bringing curious strangers in crowds, to inquire 
into their character and history. If I tried to partially conceal 
them with my shawl, it was only to be stopped at every turn 
with the good-natured warning, " You're a-fire there, some- 
where ! " In hotels where they remained long enough to become 



COS AS BE CUBA. 209 

this mode of vaccination is more effectual than ours, and 
never needs to be repeated ; — but I vouch for nothing 
which comes not under my own observation. 

A specimen of Cuban-English shall serve for finale. 
A certain youth, whom I meet occasionally, anxious to 
display his knowledge of my native language, often 
assails me with an idiom, far more puzzling than any 
Spanish. He once informed me that, at a house across 
the way, they " swallowed boarders !" 

" Swallow what ? " said I, utterly at a loss. 

"Boarders — boar-ders — how you call? — huespedes?" 

" Oh," said I, enlightened by the Spanish word, 
" You mean that they take boarders." 

" Si, seiiora ; no is ' take ' and c swallow ' the same ? 
I take medicine, and I swallow it, too, no don't I ? ° 

Furthermore, my young Cuban avowed that when 
he was in the United States he " did not call on the 
Episcopal Church, but on the Methodist!" It was 
with some difficulty that I repressed my inclination to 

known, it grew to be a regular thing for them to hold a drawing- 
room reception every evening " by request," — the guests seem- 
ing never to tire of watching their weird flight through the 
darkened room, with alternate thrills of terror and delight ; or of 
testing their recognition of me by observing how quickly they 
dimmed their light in strange hands, but immediately kindled 
it to its fullest brilliancy on being restored to mine. Both ended 
their career in Savannah ; — one apparently died a natural death, 
and the other, having escaped from its cage in the daytime, was 
mistaken by the chambermaid for a gigantic cockroach, and 
crushed accordingly ; so that I was disappointed in bringing 
either to my own home. 



210 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

ask if the Methodist Church was inclined to be sociable 
and returned the call ! .And he added that he had told 
his American landlady that he would gladly take his 
old room, on his return, "if it was not busy ; n and 
shortly afterward apologized for a " mistake " (that is 
to say, a stain) upon his otherwise immaculately white 
linen coat — white linen suits being the ordinary wear for 
gentlemen in Cuba. 

Doubtless I commit equally absurd blunders in 
Spanish, but my friends are far too polite to make me 
aware of them. Long live the graceful Cuban courtesy, 
and may the years give to it a richer flavor of sincerity 
and truth ! 



CHAPTER XXL 

TO SANTA SOFIA. 

C( /~] APRICIOITS April " was sung by a northern 
poet. In the tropics, that graceful and freakish 
fairy is transformed into a lotus-crowned, olive-browed, 
slumbrous-eyed houri, full of soft, warm, languid life, 
whose breath intoxicates, and whose embrace soothes. 
Under her reign, Nature lapses dreamily into her "melt- 
ing mood," and the earth steeps and simmers in the fiery 
glow of a sunshine that seems like a consummate ex- 
tract of fine gold, poured red-hot over the palpitating 
landscape. Whosoever travels in Cuba, at this season, 
does so, as far as it is practicable, in the cool of the 
morning, while there is yet more gold than heat in the 
sunbeams. So Juan and I, vis-a-vis and alone, break- 
fasted sumptuously on fish, eggs, rice, m and bananas, with 
due allowance of vino Catalan and coffee ; and then, as 
quickly as the thing could be effected, by means of a 
crazy volante and a coyetous-eyed calesero, were trans- 
ferred to a first-class car of the "Matanzas and Baro 
Railway," and were soon dashing southward. 

The first object of interest was the Jfonte del Pan y 
now first seen close at hand, and discovering to us that 
it has many aspects wherewith to enchant the beholder. 



212 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

Seen from Matanzas, it is a "blue, aerial* dome, fit to 
crown a dream-cathedral ; from the Cumbres, it is a 
cone, sculptured sharply against the velvet sky ; here, it 
stretches out in an irregular, serried chain, and is found 
to he not one, but many peaks, linking hands together 
for solemn conference, or sombre-browed companion- 
ship. Darting out from their shadow, we came upon a 
succession of soft, wavy swells and subsidences — fields 
of corn, cane, and yuca — vegetable gardens— orange 
groves — plantations of pine-apple, tobacco, banana, and 
cocoa-nut — colonnaded villas — and bamboo-framed, palm- 
thatched cottages. To these succeeded long reaches of 
level plain, thickly overgrown with wiry grass and sav- 
age shrubbery ; and anon, came tangled thickets, bushy 
slopes, wooded and rocky hillsides, and way word streams, 
whose deeply fertile banks gave life and luxuriance to a 
dense variety of succulent stems and gigantic leaves. 
Wild flowers of every hue and odor, and wild vines 
gifted with every peculiarity of creep and cling, covered 
the ground and the thickets. Among the latter, climb- 
ing and rioting everywhere, and too happy in its freedom 
to shut its eyes till late in the afternoon, the morning- 
glory mocked me with a strange familiarity in unfamili- 
arity, — so much more luxuriant was it, growing wild 
here, than in its cultivated state at home, and yet so 
little modified, in most of its characteristics, by differ- 
ence of climate. Perhaps the loveliest "bit" that I 
saw that morning, was a crystal lakelet, whose banks 
were just a tangled mass of these cheery blossoms ; and 
which looked like a large diamond flung carelessly into 



TO SANTA SOFIA. 213 

a radiant heap of sapphires, amethysts, and pearls. 
The flowers entirely hid the foliage, — the only hint of 
green about the picture being the placid reflection of the 
crests of two or three lofty palm-trees in the lakelet's 
smooth mirror. 

The inhabitants have done so little to change this 
part of their country, or Nature has lent herself so 
kindly to their ways, that- it is easy to think it is the 
very same landscape on which the eyes of the first ex- 
plorers rested ; whereof Columbus wrote so enthusiasti- 
cally, deploring his inability to delineate the beauty of 
" the new heaven and new earth which had opened to 
his view," and making wondering mention of the fact 
that he had found " pines and palms growing together," 
— those most characteristic types of arctic .and equatorial 
vegetation dwelling here, side by side, in curious and 
picturesque harmony. 

By and by, the wild and picturesque character of the 
landscape gives place to a more level and cultivated 
aspect ; the hills recede to a soft, undulating line on the 
horizon ; a green luxuriance of sugar-cane fills the val- 
leys ; lime and aloe hedges perfume the air ; tall, white 
chimneys send up black columns of smoke; and com- 
pact villages, consisting of a small plaza and a street or 
two of contiguous houses, with the gray tower of a 
church rising among the red-tiled roofs, meet us here 
and there. 

Through all these scenes we dart at the usual rate of 
railway travel, amid ever-growing heats, until the fixed fer- 
vor of noon is upon us, the tired sea-breeze swoons away in 



214 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

the distant hills, and the earth lies, sun-tranced and silent, 
under the glowing sky. We buy fruit, at the stations, 
from turbaned negro-girls, with soft, dusky eyes and illim- 
itable lips ; and we drink cool cocoa-nut water from the 
green shell. We stare lazily at our travelling compan- 
ions, — mostly business men, in white linen suits ; but a 
bundle of red shawls marks the whereabout of one 
woman, fast asleep, another is chatting merrily with her 
escort, and an old negress, crouched in a corner, with a 
pipe in her mouth, looks like a heap of ragged blankets, 
smouldering within, and sending out smoke from a 
chance opening. We buy the sixteenth share of a 
lottery-ticket, — not that we look for any favor at Dame 
Fortune's tricky hands, but because the vendor thereof 
is a one-armed • soldier, pale and trembling from a recent 
amputation, with dark, melancholy eyes, and a face of 
hopeless misery. This is a pleasant way that the Gov- 
ernment has of providing for her invalided servants; 
she gives them a small monopoly of routes and lottery- 
tickets. 

Often, the stations consist of a single building, wherein 
the produce of the neighboring plantations is collected 
for transportation; one of them is in the midst of a 
caneneld, and engineer and brakemen plunge into the 
green rows with drawn knives, and help themselves to a 
supply of this tropical refreshment sufficient to chew 
upon for the next hour. Here, idlers are few, and pas- 
sengers fewer still. 

About one o'clock, we change cars at Union, a town 
that seems a trifle more wide-awake than its neighbors ; 



TO SANTA SOFIA. 215 

and in the course of an hour, we are dropped at a little 
sun-burned and sleepy station in the heart of the sugar- 
country. Here, a tall, white-haired negro, with a sword 
at his side and a pistol in his belt, accosts Juan respect- 
fully, conducts us to a volante in waiting, mounts the 
postilion-horse, cracks his whip, and we are en route for 
Santa Sofia, — an ingenio or sugar estate, owned by a 
branch of that House of Samano, to whose overflowing 
kindness I am already so deeply indebted for Cuban 
sight-seeings and enjoyments. Our way lies through a 
lonely sea of sugar-cane, traversed by palni-bordered 
avenues, or lanes hedged with a dense and varied accu- 
mulation of tropical vegetation ; through which we 
journey at a rattling pace, while Juan explains to me 
that our calesero goes armed", in order to be ready for 
the attacks of runaway slaves, coolies, and other desper- 
adoes, who sometimes lurk in the cane and thickets, with 
intent to rob, and no insuperable objection to murder. 
And as our guide is a faithful servitor of his master, 
entrusted with all of the marketing and much of the 
expressage of the house, he is in special danger of 
molestation. « 

A drive of three or four miles brought us to the 
casa de vivie?ida i — a large, white, colonnaded structure, 
with interior court. On its broad piazza, a pleasant fam- 
ily party was gathered to welcome us, consisting of 
Don Gervasio, a grave and reverend Spanish seizor, — 
Dona Carlota, a stately elderly dame, — their eldest son. 
Don Julio, Cuban born and bred, — his wife, Dona An- 
gela, a highly accomplished and fascinating Barcelonian, 



216 MT WINTER IN CUBA. 

— a bevy of dark-eyed seiloritas, and three lovely chil- 
dren. Here, I fell under the magic of a hospitality never 
excelled, within my experience, in the quality of putting 
a guest entirely at ease, — a hospitality so frank, so 
graceful, and so delicate, as to make my stay at Santa 
Sofia wholly delightful at the time, and surrounding it 
with a kind of halo, in the retrospect. 



CHAPTER XXIL 



THE INGENIO. 



"TISTGENTO — meaning literally, engine — is a word of 
elastic signification. Covering, in its broadest sense, 
the whole sugar plantation of thousands of acres, its 
meaning is first limited to apply to the large building 
devoted to sugar-making, and on entering that, it is 
found to be still further contracted to fit the powerful 
steam-engine which drives the works. 

My first visit was to the ingenio building, or sugar- 
house, — a vast extent of red roof, one hundred and 
eighty feet long, and scarcely less than half as wide, 
supported on stout pillars, and pierced by a tall, smoke- 
vomiting chimney ; under which roof the toilsome pro- 
cess of sugar-making goes on unintermittedly during 
the grinding season. The cane, fresh cut from the 
fields, is brought in carts to one end of the long build- 
ing, where it is laid, by hand, lengthwise, on a flexible, 
revolving conductor made of wooden slats and links of 
chain, which conveys it between three huge, heavy, hor- 
izontal rollers, called maquinas de moler. From these 
it emerges, on the opposite side, crushed and dry ; and a 
second conductor takes it outside the building, and 
dumps it into carts, when it is earned away to be first 
10 



218 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

thoroughly dried in the sun, and then stored to serve 
as fuel for the furnaces. The expressed juice falls into 
a receiver beneath the rollers, whence it is pumped into 
a long trough overhead ; through which it flows into a 
large reservoir where it is gently heated, and deposits 
whatever bits of cane and other impurities have accom- 
panied it thus far. From this it is drawn into the first of a 
" train " of three immense caldrons, in which it undergoes 
a rapid boiling, the process of defecation being assisted 
by the admixture of a small quantity of lime ; and is 
then successively ladled into the two remaining caldrons, 
and boiled, stirred, and skimmed, until it reaches the 
granulating point. Next, it is poured into large, open, 
shallow vats, and left to cool. When cold, it looks 
somewhat like the thick deposit sometimes found in the 
bottom of molasses hogsheads, and still more like par- 
ticularly dingy and slimy mud. It is then shovelled into 
barrels with pierced heads, and, having now traversed 
the entire length of the ingenio, is removed to the casa 
de purga. The floor of this building is composed of 
narrow strips of plank, with openings between ; and 
upon this the barrels are ranged, with their pierced 
heads downward, and left to drain. The drainage falls 
into an immense copper tank below, and constitutes 
molasses. The sugar left in the barrels is of the quality 
known as mascabado (frequently corrupted into musco- 
vado), and forms the larger part of the imported sugar; 
the refining thereof being a separate business, mostly 
done in the United States. 

However, in this i?ige?iio, about midway of the build- 



THE INGENIO. 219 

ing, and connected with the engine by a band, is a 
" centrifugal wheel," by means of which a better quality 
of sugar is made. The rim of the wheel is a kind of 
trough of perforated tin, into which a small quantity of 
the thick, dark mass from the vats is shoveled, the 
wheel is set in rapid motion, the centrifugal force throws 
off the molasses through the perforations, and the resi- 
duum is a dry and light-colored sugar, the best quality 
known to Cuban commerce. Furthermore, the planters 
make a small quantity of "clayed sugar," for home 
consumption ; the unrefined mass being put into con^ 
ical moulds of tin, with small apertures at their 
apices, which are then inverted, covered with a soft paste 
of clay and water, and left to drain. In time, the mass 
becomes dry and solid ; and when removed from the 
mould, its base is quite white, a little higher it is of a 
pale yellow, and the tint deepens gradually to the apex, 
where it is almost brown. 

But the mere mechanical process of sugar-making is 
by far the least interesting part of the scene which meets 
the eyes of a stranger, first ushered into an ingenio. 
There is a look of hard, steady, energetic industry about 
it, which he sees nowhere else in the island ; and which 
seems wholly incongruous with the soft, languid reaches 
of tropical sky and landscape that smile upon him through 
the unenclosed sides of the building. Apart from this, 
however, there is a sombre, phantasmagoric character 
about the spectacle which will persuade him, for the 
moment, that he has somehow strayed into Pluto's own 
palace, wreathed in sulphurous vapor. There is an un- 



220 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

couth and demoniac appearance about the negro and 
coolie workmen — naked above the waist, and with no su- 
perfluous garments beneath it — as seen in the red glare 
of furnaces, or through misty clouds of steam from 
the hissing caldrons, that seems suited to no other local- 
ity. Add to this the hoarse, startling cries of the cal- 
dron tenders to the stokers, — " A-b'la ! a-b'la ! " " E-cha 
can-de-la I e-cha ! " " Puer-ta ! " — the mournful, minor 
chant of the workers at the carts and rollers, the crunch 
of the cane, the creak of chains, the whirling wheels 
and bands, and you will not wonder at the illusion. 

I was directed to notice the engineer's apartment, 
hanging like a bird-cage from the roof, and reached by 
a ladder-like staircase. The engineer was a tall, power- 
ful, sandy-haired, shrewd-faced native of ISTev Hamp- 
shire, seated cross-legged on the frame-work of his 
engine, poring over a dilapidated copy of a home news- 
paper. He seemed glad to see a countrywoman, and 
did what he could for her entertainment. Seeing me 
look earnestly at a ponderous chain which was con^ 
nected with the rollers, and had a grim look of unrelent- 
ing Fate about it, he began to tell me how an old slave- 
woman was once drawn into its cruel embrace, " kicking 
and yelling, and before I could stoj) the engine, her legs 
were torn clean off her body, and — " but here I broke 
in upon the horrible narrative with an energetic request 
that it might be left unfinished. The thing which sick- 
ened me most was the cool hardihood, verging upon joc- 
ularity, with which he treated the affair. But then, it 
was only a " negra" and too old to be of much value. 



THE INGENIO. 221 

I asked some questions relative to the comparative 
efficiency of slave and coolie labor. " Wall I" said my 
compatriot, scratching his head reflectively, " the coolies 
do know a leetle the most, — but they are apt to be 
cross-grained, ugly chaps (to be sure, it's no wonder, 
considerin' how they're treated) ; and then they don't 
mind up and killing themselves, when they git mad, any 
more'n I do paring my nails. I'd rather have ten niggers 
to manage, than one Chinaman, by a long chalk ! " 

" Do you have much to do with the management of 
the hands ?" 

"Urn! — no, not much, — that's the mayoraVs busi- 
ness. But I call for what help I want about the engine, 
and I don't allow any meddling with my hands. And 
they know I don't stand no sass nor shirking." 

" But you do not carry any weapons, nor whip." 

" Wall ! I guess not. But I generally carry my fists 
about me, and they do pooty well. I leave pistols and 
such like to the mayoral" 

Said mayoral being a short, dark, broad-chested 
Spaniard, with a face like a smouldering furnace, and an 
eye that had a perpetual threat in it. He was girded 
with a sword, and had a brace of pistols in his belt. 
Little mercy would any mutinous coolie get at his 
hands ! 

During my stay at Santa Sofia, the sugar-house exert- 
ed a curious fascination over me, and whenever other 
sources of amusement failed, I was sure to be drawn 
thither, and to be found hanging over the rollers, watch- 
ing the cane slowly tending toward its hard fate, and 



222 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

listening to the wild chant of the Africans there at 
work ; or inhaling the faint, sweet vapor from the cal- 
drons, or seated silently by the centrifugal wheel, har- 
vesting the abundant crop of analogies growing out of 
all. It was impossible not to notice, for example, how 
the cane became the agent of its own destruction, — how 
the bruised mass from the rollers was made the instru- 
ment of drawing in a continual succession of fresh, sweet 
cane, to be likewise crushed, mangled, and cast out, fit 
only for burning, — a thing which has its mournful coun- 
terparts in the social world. The negroes grew, after a 
time, to signalize my comings and goings with a smile, 
and were assiduous in doing me small services ; but I do 
not remember that I ever elicited the slightest mark of in- 
terest or attention from a Chinese. These men appeared 
to be in a state of chronic sullenness ; they persistently 
avoided meeting my eye, and emulated the hardness, 
inflexibility, and soullessness of the implements with 
which they labored. As they feel the weight and shame 
of bondage more than the negroes, it is a comfort to 
think that they can look forward to a day of emancipa- 
tion ; for the coolies are bound for a term of eight years 
only, during which time their servitude is severe enough, 
but at the end of which, they are their own masters. It 
is also a comfort to know that their propensity to sui- 
cide operates as some check upon the worst forms of 
cruelty, — one so often has to be glad, in this world, of 
things which, in happier circumstances, were fitter sub- 
jects for tears. 

I observed no absolute cruelty in the treatment of 



THE INGENIO. 223 

the hands, but the whole system of sugar-making is one 
of hard, steady, relentless driving, based upon a nice cal- 
culation of the utmost that can be gotten out of human 
flesh and bones, without immediate exhaustion, deteriora- 
tion, and consequent loss. One cannot behold it without 
a sorrowful pity for lives that must run such a round of 
toilsome motion, yet accomplish no genuine progress. 
During the grinding season of four months, the engine 
rests not, night nor day, nor Sunday ; the procession of 
sugar-cane stops not ; the furnaces are always red, and 
the caldrons ever boiling, bubbling, and emitting dense 
clouds of vapor. The women work in the fields, and at 
the carts and rollers, but not at the engine, furnaces, or 
caldrons. 

At dusk the large plantation bell rings the Oration, 
which in times of greater religious strictness, was the 
signal for a prayer to be said, in house or a-field, but is 
now merely used to call in the field-hands. The mayor- 
domo, whose office resembles that of a purser, now makes 
the daily distribution of provisions, — generally consist- 
ing of jerked beef, rice, and plaintains, or bananas, — and 
the negroes then file into quarters. At another time we 
will visit them there. 

We return to the piazza, to watch the twilight dusk 
steal over the fair, tropical landscape. The little enclo- 
sure in front is filled with rare and brilliant flowers, and 
the receda, or tree-mignonette, growing twenty or thirty 
feet high, sends forth its richest odor. The sunset-hues 
deepen in the west, they swim and flash and fade in ex- 
quisite, tender tints, and a golden gloom begins the night. 



224 31 Y WINTER IN CUBA. 

And wondrously fair is the evening picture in this 
delicious climate! The large, tropical moon fills it with 
charmed light, the lustrous leaves of the palms soften it 
with trembling shadows. The long, level reaches of the 
cane stir lightly, but soundlessly, under the stealing 
steps of light-footed zephyrs ; the huge canopy of 
the ceiba hangs motionless in the starry arch of the 
sky ; the purple, distant hills, and the dusky-browed 
forest, dream soft in the moon-tranced air. Dona 
Angela brings out some poems of Espronceda's — Spain's 
last and sweetest singer — and the soft modulations of 
her tender voice, and the liquid ripple of the Spanish 
vowels, flow out harmoniously over the scene, with 
frequent lapses into silence, which are sweeter than any 
sound. For, whether at noon or night, silence seems 
most natural to the tropics. They pant and flush with 
feeling, but it is inarticulate. The landscape is always a 
poem, but it is seen and felt only, never heard. Bright- 
plumaged birds swing in the verdant gloom of the palm 
boughs, but they have no song, only a cry. Yet sweeter 
and sadder is it than the song of any nightingale, heart- 
breaking in its sharp pain of helplessness and longing ! 
Suddenly, a monotonous, minor-keyed murmur of 
African song rose from the negro-quarters, — first, a high, 
shrill recitative, and then a wild chorus, sung in unison; 
both words and music being clearly the product of a 
race just a little higher than the brutes. If the pathetic, 
pleading look of a dog's face could be expressed in 
music, it would sound just so. Yet the strain was sad 
to me only, — the singers broke into shouts of laughter 



THE INGENIO. 225 

and clapping of hands ! And that touched me most of 
all; — there is something inexpressibly mournful about 
the mirth of an enslaved and degraded race. Its very 
boisterousness and utter abandonment show how great 
is the reaction from fiie heavy pressure of forced toil 
and weary pain. 

With the evening, the cocullus gleamed out over the 
cane-fields, like a new creation of terrestrial stars. Yet, 
beautiful as they were in the distance, and despite the 
reassuring memory of my two caged pets in Matanzas, I 
could scarcely repress a thrill of terror when I first be- 
held the great, fiery eyes and flaming breastplate coming 
toward me, straight and swift, through the darkness, and 
only turning aside within two or three inches of my face. 
It was hard to believe that so much blaze would not burn, 
or that it could emanate from a creature of less size than 
a bat. The cocullus are easily caught by placing a live 
coal or two in the grass, and throwing a handkerchief 
over them as they approach what they mistake for a 
friendly signal. The little Cito brought me one thus 
ensnared ; and told me gravely that it was " uno de los 
serenos de los insectos" (one of the watchmen of the 
insects). Those who recall the description of the lan- 
tern-bearing serenos of Havana, in a former chapter, 
will recognize the appropriateness of the name. 

At bedtime, I was shown to an apartment more 
spacious than it was ever my fortune to occupy, except 
once, when, in a crowded Southern hotel, the ball-room 
was assigned me as a dormitory! Yet I think that 
might have been put inside of this, and still have left 
10* 



226 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

sufficient margin for a chain of contra-dances. The few 
pieces of furniture were quite lost in its vastness, and 
a single candle made but feeble encroachments upon its 
heavy masses of shadow. In one corner was a bed, in 
nicest order and daintiest array, but of the most immiti- 
gable Cuban variety — a wonderful invention for keeping 
foreigners awake. Through the broad, iron-grated win- 
dow opposite, I could look straight into the sugar- 
house, with its vapor-charged atmosphere, its lurid 
glow, its seething caldrons, its half-naked wretches of 
attendants, its wild screeching and monotonous chant ; 
and the Inferno of Dante, the Hell of Milton, and the 
Witches' Cave of Macbeth, met and mingled wildly in 
my dreams. Not till near dawn did I escape from these 
into Slumber's undisputed land. 



CHAPTER XXHL 

PLANTATION PICTURES. 

A SUGAR plantation «is a little village within itself, 
containing church, dwellings, hospital, workshops, 
storehouses, water- works, and whatever is necessary to 
its daily economy. That of Santa Sofia numbers about 
four hundred souls, of whom not more than a dozen or 
fifteen are contained in white skins; a disproportion 
which seems to justify, in a measure, the firearms, whips, 
chains, locks, gratings, etc., which are so prominent a 
part of its system. How justly these fifteen have ac- 
quired the right to dominate over the three hundred and 
seventy-five, is a question for moralists ; but while they 
exercise it, it behooves them to take measures for their 
personal safety. The negroes are said to be, in gross, 
coarse and brutal, the Chinese sly and cruel ; if it were 
not for those same locks, pistols, and other safeguards, 
I car^ we H understand that my first night at Santa Sofia 
might have been memorable for worse horrors than the 
lurid phantasmagoria of my dreams. 

Day broke over the plantation as freshly fair as if 
whips and slave gangs and wearisome toil were also but 
visions of the night ; — and other days followed, full of 
mellow sunshine and a subtle sweetness of luminous air, 



228 MY WINTER iTV CUBA, 

wherein to bask and breathe was quite enough for happi- 
ness. A half-dozen of such days, in our climate, are counted 
sufficient atonement for the atmospheric delinquencies of 
a whole season ; here, they were the rule — slowly ripen- 
ing from golden morn to fervid noon, and thencefor- 
ward growing ever sweeter and sweeter, until they 
departed through a gorgeous sunset arch, crowned with 
gladness, and leaving on the mind a beatific impression 
of rare concords of lustrous ^ color, and calm floods of 
iridescent light, but no distinct record of individuality. 
Possibly their very eventlessness was their subtlest 
charm ; in such an air, at such a temperature, the mind 
craved neither the excitement of stirring events, nor the 
labor of thought — only the calm enjoyment of observa- 
tion, and the soft play of fancy. Sufficient unto each 
day was the evil of that dark shadow of bondage and 
forced labor, brooding over the cane-fields and under 
the vast roof of the sugar-house; sufficient for its joy to 
watch the slow-moving panorama of radiant dawns, and 
prismatic sunsets, and moon-silvered eves, seen across a 
billowy luxuriance of rustling cane, and through green 
arches of great boughs of ceiba, palm, and tamarind. 

On this pleasant background, the quiet incidents of 
the dreamy, leisurely plantation-life were softly pen- 
cilled ;— among them a few scenes stand out sharply in 
my memory, as more brilliantly or sombrely tinted than 
the rest, of which I give faint sketches. 

First, the barracon, or negro-quarter. A quadrangu- 
lar structure, whose exterior presents to view only a high 
wall, without other, opening than a massive and sombre 



LANTATION PICTURES. 229 

archway, closed by an iron gate. The mayoral turns 
key, draws bolt, and ushers us into a large court, cov- 
ered with a scanty growth of coarse, wiry grass. In the 
middle is a stone fire-place and huge boiler, wherein 
certain kinds of cookery are done, in the lump, for the 
entire tenantry. Around us is a hollow square of two- 
story dwellings, in as close contiguity as the cells of a 
honeycomb ; the second floor being reached by means 
of exterior galleries and staircases, and each room serv- 
ing for home to a limited family. The place is wholly 
deserted and silent ; the adult occupants are at work, 
and the children are cared for elsewhere, during their 
absence. We look into some of the rooms, and wonder 
if life is worth living at such a scanty measure of com- 
fort or attainment. There is a bed of rude plank with 
a blanket on it, a stool or two, a few pots and pans, two 
or three coarse garments hanging on the wall, occasion- 
ally a little crucifix or an image of the Virgin, — and that 
is all ! ISTo pleasantness within, no verdure without, no 
breadth of scope, no wholesome retirement — merely a 
place for eating and sleeping, where the slaves and 
coolies are driven nightly, like sheep to a pen, and locked 
in, until the morning's call to labor. Over the gateway 
is the apartment of the mayoral, with the door in the 
side of the arch, anterior to the gate, and a window 
opening on the court. It has a grim provision of fire- 
arms, and is evidently a small fortress, commanding the 
whole interior, from which it would be easy to shoot 
down the leaders in any disturbance, and reduce insur- 
gents to terms. 



230 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

Secondly, the hospital. Its exterior and approach are 
similar to those of the barracon. Entering the court, 
we find forty or fifty naked negro children at play, who 
undergo a sudden transformation into so many staring 
ebony statues, at sight of strange visitors ; and are imme- 
diately ordered off by Doiia Angela, with injunctions not 
to reappear until they have found somewhat wherewith 
to cover their nakedness. The gentlemen enter a good- 
natured plea for the " negritos" (Anglice ; little niggers), 
so summarily dismissed to retirement or the unwonted 
thraldom of garments; but the mistress, scandalized by 
their appearance — vicariously, I imagine — maintains that 
it is " una cosa indecenta" and carries her point. One side 
of the court is occupied by the nursery, where all the 
babes of the plantation are gathered, in charge of girls 
eight years old and upwards, overseen by two or three 
superannuated negro women, too old to be of use else- 
where. Some are wrapped in old shawls, or a bit of 
ragged blanket, others are muffled in all sorts of non- 
descript garments, and one small morsel of femininity 
lies curled up on the floor, quite nude, but with a dingy 
muslin cap on her tiny, woolly head, which gives her an 
indescribably elfin and wizened aspect. They are all pre- 
ternaturally quiet and docile, as I have found slave babies 
to be everywhere. Is it that they come thus early to a 
perception of their lot in life, or because they are not 
indulged and pampered into ill-humor and exaction ? " 

In an adjacent room, we found the small people just 
banished from the court, all tangled and snarled together 
in a rapid process of toilet-making, and a chaotic con- 



PLANTATION PICTURES. 231 

fusion of ill-assorted and impromptu raiment. A few, 
who were already dressed, came forward, and knelt 
down around me, with crossed hands and bended heads, 
waiting for something — what ? " Una benedicion, se- 
fiora" said the kindly-eyed woman who was superintend- 
ing their operations, seeing my perplexity. Somewhat 
taken aback by so unusual a request, I yet managed to 
give them the desired " blessing," according to the sweet 
Spanish formula, " Dios os haga bueno ! " and went on 
my way wondering. I learned, later, that it is an 
African superstition that the benediction of a stranger, 
from over the ocean, has a Divine efficacy to brighten 
the future of the recipient, — a relic, doubtless, of those 
remote times when all such visitors were welcomed as 
messengers from the gods. But it needs more of that 
faith which is potent to remove mountains than I possess, 
to believe that any one's blessing can work much tem- 
poral good to these outcasts of civilization, whose place 
in the world is so vexing a problem. To be sure the 
civil law of Cuba is kinder to the, slave than ever our 
own was. It gives him his time on Sundays, to enable 
him to work out his freedom, if he is so minded. It 
obliges the master to sell any dissatisfied slave, who can 
find another person willing to buy him ; his value being 
fixed by a government official at the current market 
price, rarely taking into account extraordinary capacity 
or qualifications, so that a really good slave finds little 
difficulty in changing owners. It does not prohibit him 
the use of whatever educational advantages he can com- 
mand; though it may readily be inferred that these are 



232 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

not many, among a people not over solicitous of such 
privileges for themselves. But how is a plantation negro, 
working all clay long under the eye and whip of a driver, 
and locked into quarters at night, to bring these laws to 
bear on his own case, however much it may need them ? 
In the cities and towns, no doubt, they do something to 
lighten the yoke. 

The remainder of the building is the hospital proper, 
divided into a dispensary, male and female wards, and 
a lying-in room. The apartments were all large, and 
lofty, even grand in their proportions, like almost every- 
thing else on the estate. They were scrupulously clean 
also, but their extreme barrenness, the absence of all 
adornment, or of aught to stimulate thought or gratify 
taste, made them undelightful enough. There was no 
furniture whatever, except a row of beds on either side ; 
and these were merely oblong forms of thick, heavy 
plank, about the size and height of an ordinary cot. On 
these lay the patients, in their usual working garments, 
with a blanket over them if they liked. At first, it gave 
me a shock to notice the comfortlessness of the whole ; 
it seemed actual cruelty to put sick people on such beds — 
tables, rather, where, I thought, the poor, worn-out body 
might have been dissected as soon as the breath was out 
of it, without any very harsh violation of the decencies 
of the place. But I was self-convicted of unreasonable- 
ness, after a little, since the idolized darling of the 
wealthiest Cuban house is scarcely more luxuriously 
lodged, — the degree of comfort between the side of a 
plank and a piece of canvas stretched tightly over an 



PL A NT A TION PICTURES. 233 

iron frame being much too nice to be appreciable to any- 
one not born to it. 

But the blank, stolid, utterly unilluminated faces on 
those beds were pitiful to behold ! Perhaps the African 
face, by reason of its coarse, heavy traits, and sombre 
coloring, is always more profoundly and haggardly mel- 
ancholy, in sickness, than any other; and here, that 
expression seemed intensified by the meagreness and 
unloveliness of the" surroundings. The patients scarcely 
noticed me, as I paused to look at them ; though one or 
two made a faint attempt at a smile, in response to some 
kind words from the mistress of the estate. One was 
already beyond the % reach of all sublunary interests; the 
stupor of death was settling on her face, the fixed, glazed 
eye might even now catch some bewildering glimpses of 
the " glory that shall be revealed," even to this hapless, 
benighted soul. I noted the fact with something very like 
gladness ; the door of death seemed the only effectual 
escape from a life of such hard and hopeless limitations. 
What possible happiness or improvement was there in 
store for any of these forlorn wretches, even if they 
should manage to struggle through this present misery 
of sickness? which, to do them justice, not one of them 
seemed trying for. They had not found life so good or 
glad as to be unwilling to give it up; they just lay 
quietly on their hard couches, passive and uncomplain- 
ing, and let God and their master do with them as they 
would. There was neither light, nor hope, nor desire, 
in their hard-lined faces, nothing but a flaccid and de- 
jected helplessness, in lieu of resignation; as if they 



234 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

were conscious that they were born into the world for 
this and nothing else, and blindly accepted their hard 
lot, without being able to understand it. Even in the 
little children, this characteristic seemed as perfectly 
developed as in their elders, oppressing one with a sense 
of something dolefully amiss and out-of-joint in all the 
conditions of humanity. 

Here and there, in strong contrast with these de- 
pressed and nerveless Africans, a Chinese glowered like 
a spark of fire amid gray ashes ; his usual expression of 
sullen insubordination being sharpened by the pressure 
of physical suffering. One of these sat on the edge of 
his bed, with a swollen and bandaged limb drawn up 
beside him — the very incarnation of impotent hate and 
rage. The mayoral laid a firm, detaining grasp on his 
shoulder, under which I could see the man wince and 
shiver, while the official told me how he had run away 
weeks ago, and hidden in the woods, leading a sort of 
highwayman's life, and baffling all pursuit, until he cut 
his foot badly on a sharp stone, in jumping a stream; 
which wound festered and gangrened, and so disabled 
him that he could no longer procure food, nor drag his 
wasted body from one hiding-place to another ; when he 
was found — half-dead, but still untamed in spirit — and 
brought back to prison. Since which time, he had twice 
attempted suicide. The Chinese meanwhile regarded 
us with a look that would have stabbed us both to the 
heart, if looks were available for such a purpose. Plainly, 
he felt himself at war with the whole tyrannous universe ; 
and especially resented the indignity of being exhibited 
and commented upon as if he had been a wild beast. 



PLANT A TION PICTURES. 235 

From a region so suggestive of miserable doubt and 
questioning of Providence as this, it was good to turn 
aside into the lying-in* room, and see how the goodness 
of God was vindicated, even here, to our low, human 
apprehension. Something of that same pride and joy 
of motherhood, which makes such a light in happier 
places, was here visible also, helping these poor women 
through their sufferings, and shining in the faces of 
those whose babes were held up to view, and j>atted, and 
praised — babyhood being a wonderful and beautiful 
thing everywhere ! Nor did this joy appear to be 
clouded by any misgivings about the future of these 
small slips of humanity, set to grow in so unkindly a 
soil. In the sick wards I had found myself uncomfort- 
ably face to face with the great problem of life — the 
presence of sin and misery in the creation of an all-wise 
and beneficent God, — here, I seemed to have gone a long 
way toward its solution. Out of the deepest pain is 
born the extremest pleasure ; and the suffering and sor- 
row of this present time are often but the birth-throes 
of a joy "unspeakable and full of glory," that shall 
be brought forth hereafter unto all who love God. 

The little chapel next claims our attention, a plain, 
brown-stuccoed edifice, where occasional services are 
held by the priests of the neighboring village, and 
whose square tower is rather a pretty object, rising 
above the red roofs of the adjacent buildings. Its 
interior is still gay with the decorations for a 
recent festival; artificial flowers are wreathed and 
grouped everywhere, both flowers and arrangement 



236 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

being due to the pretty and skilful fingers of the senori- 
tas Engracia, Josifa, and Conchita. In the little sacristy- 
are the priestly vestments, elaborately embroidered by 
the same agile fingers. Dofia Carlota unfolds and 
exhibits them, — the green for common use, the red for 
the " Corpus Christi," the white for Christmas, Easter, 
weddings, and christenings. Last of all, the black for 
funerals. 

" I thank God," says the sefiora, solemnly, and with 
a slight tremor in her voice, " there has never yet been 
any need of these ; but we have them ready, you see, 
and none can tell how soon they may be wanted." 

She is thinking, doubtless, that, in virtue of ill-health 
and advanced age, she has a right to expect to need 
them first, but I read differeutly the oracles of the 
future. The youngest child of the house has one of 
those sweet, rapt, far-seeing faces, never long vouchsafed 
to any home, save as a # tender and beatific memory, 
linking the trials of earth with the promises of heaven. 

A steep staircase leads to the little, square tower-top. 
The view from thence is extensive but monotonous, — 
almost any New England landscape would present a 
more striking and varied outline ; yet there is a tropical 
character about it that makes it richly worth observing. 
Over all the outer circle — beyond an immediate prox- 
imity of rippling reaches of cane, and soft shades of 
palm, mimosa, and bamboo — are bright, bold billows of 
foliage, tossed aloft from remote forests; and on one 
side the blue, flowing outline of distant hills. In truth, 
if there were nothing else to look at, palms and bam- 



PL ANT A TIOK PICTURES. 237 

boos alone might well satisfy one's thirst for natural 
beauty. 

Directly behind the house is a large enclosure devoted 
to vegetables and fruits. Thither, at sunset-time, I 
prevail upon Engracia to accompany me. She hesitates 
at first, to be sure, and tells me that she never goes 
there, the servants will bring me whatever I want ; but 
upon being assured that I desire neither fruits nor vege- 
tables, but only to observe their peculiarities of culture 
and growth, many of them being known to me hitherto 
merely as things of bales and bags and boxes, and gro- 
cers'' counters, she consents, — albeit, not without a cer- 
tain reluctance, which I set down to Cuban indolence, 
and pitilessly ignore. 

Nearest the house are the vegetable beds, kept 
orderly enough, but with too strong a likeness to kitchen 
gardens everywhere, to be deeply interesting. The only 
unfamiliar forms are the name, a species of yam, grow- 
ing to an enormous size ; and the malanga and ceizabe, 
both farinaceous roots, from the latter of which tapioca 
is made. Next, come stiff battalions of pine-apples, in 
various stages of maturity ; and after them, a large 
melon-patch covered with a thick tangle of luxuriant 
vines, among the leaves of which great green and russet 
rounds are industriously secreting sweets from the 
tropical sunbeams. To these succeeds a small forest of 
banana-trees, with their long, fragile leaves gently sway- 
ing in the evening breeze, their purple buds nestling close 
to the parent stalk, and their heavy clusters of green 
and ripe fruit, here called memos (hands), of which each 



238 MY WINTER IN CUBA, 

banana is a " finger." We next plunge into a grove of 
orange trees, alike fragrant with dark green foliage, 
bridal blossoms, and golden fruit ; and we finally lose 
ourselves in a kind of orchard wilderness, for which Art 
has done what she could, and then handed it over to 
Nature, for a finishing touch of wildness and grace. 
Here, the chestnut-like mango, with its pear-shaped fruit 
and dense foliage, stands side by side with the dark- 
leaved and gray-fruited mamey ; the elm-like aguacate, 
and the drooping tamarind lean and whisper together ; 
the sapota mingles its fruit of brown with the green 
and yellow balls of the calabazo ; the bright scarlet of 
the pomegranate's blossoms touches the delicate pink of 
those of the almond ; and the bindweed and the love- 
vine marry them all together, and wreathe their topmost 
boughs with graceful coronals of leaves and filaments. 
Here and there, a tall palm has joined itself to the 
pleasant company, a magnolia has also found room for 
its smooth trunk and shining leaves, and a group of 
young . acacias have stolen into an unguarded corner. 
The whole scene glows with brilliant coloring; — the 
sky is roseate ; the leaves above and around are red- 
dened by the sunset beams ; the crimson and scarlet, 
the orange and gold, of the fruits and blossoms are like 
flame ; even the earth is red, where it shows through 
the undergrowth. The autumnal glories of New Eng- 
land are not brighter. And there, perchance, we touch 
upon the the secret of the sadness always latent in the 
tropical landscape. Perfection of any kind, in this world, 
is near its opposite ; and amid the abounding life of the 



PLANTATION PICTURES. 239 

tropics there is continual decay. Perpetual summer im- 
plies perpetual autumn : some plants must needs be ever 
dying, some trees shedding their foliage. In many cases, 
the new growth pushes off the old, and under the boughs 
that are at once thick-clad with verdure, white with blos- 
soms, and golden with fruit, one hears beneath his tread 
the rustle of fallen leaves. 

The boundary wall of the enclosure is covered with 
mosses and creeping things. A wild convolvulus and 
passion-vine have so tangled themselves together that 
no mortal hand can separate them ; and a night-bloom- 
ing cereus has climbed to the topmost stone, to look out 
over the adjacent fields at the sunset, or at the negroes 
and coolies cutting cane by the latest beams. The 
nearest of these — a gigantic African — no sooner spies us 
than he breaks out into a strain of fulsome compliment, 
— " Dios mio I what beauty ! Santa Maria ! what 
grace ! Ay ! what pretty little feet ! Ay ! what beau- 
tiful little hands ! " and so on, ad nauseam, and not 
without a vicious leer. If I open my eyes only a trifle 
wider at the creature's impudence, it is because I have 
learned that the most courteous Don of the district 
would probably do the very same thing in similar circum- 
stances ; and I really do not see that it is worse in the 
slave than in the master. But I am amazed, when I dis- 
cover that this flowery discourse has sent Engracia fly- 
ing toward the house like a startled deer. Her white 
dress is already disappearing among the trunks of 
the trees; and nothing remains but for me to follow 
more slowly, reflecting upon the anomalies of a system 



240 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

under which the daughter of the house flees in terror 
from the sight of one of its dependents. Halfway to 
the mansion, I meet a servant sent after me in hot 
haste ; ' and on the piazza I find Engracia trembling 
with fear, and recounting our adventure to her excited 
sisters. It is my first and last independent ramble in 
Cuba. 

An invitation to dine at the neighboring plantation 
of San Benito, adds some queer, crowded pictures of 
the Flemish school to our gallery. First, there is the 
transit thither, — a complete melee of volantes, saddle- 
horses, mules, negroes, and dogs, fifteen or twenty in 
all, tearing across the cane-fields, or through the grand 
palm-avenues, in the amber glory of the late afternoon, 
at a rate and with an amount of noise that would have 
befitted well a fox-chase. The v olantes have each three 
horses, — a prodigality of motive power only to be seen 
in the rural districts, and apparently subserving no end 
but that of picturesqueness, since the extra horse occu- 
pies himself mainly in tumbling into ditches, entangling 
himself in wayside shrubbery, and jerking and jostling 
the shaft-horse; which latter endures the infliction with 
the stoicism appropriate to the inevitable. The ladies 
wear no shawls nor bonnets, only fluttering scarfs and 
ribbons, that vie with the tropical landscape in color. 
The road is everywhere beautiful, and often picturesque ; 
on either side are the billowy canefields, while the palms, 
of which one never tires, meet above our heads, and 
stretch away before us in long, temple-like vistas. Cross- 
ing a bridge, we are wrapped, for a moment, in a thicket 



PLANTATION PICTURES. 241 

of willow-like bamboos. Reaching the top of a slight 
eminence, we discover afar the rolling outline of purple 
hills. Parsing along the edge of a forest, we are" 
charmed with the exuberance and diversity of its flow- 
ery undergrowth, — the pink, white, and purple convol- 
vuli, the flaming fever-flower, the sunny-eyed and sweet- 
breathed jessamine, the many varieties of the wild 
passion-vine, the white-chaliced mangrove, the richly 
perfumed heliotrope, and divers others, which I do not 
recognize individually, but all of which help to fill me 
with a vague sense of inexhaustible beauty and abound- 
ing fragrance. And never was there sunshine so rich, 
so soft, and so dream-like, as that through which gallops 
our straggling party, waking the drowsy echoes with 
noisy clatter of volantes and hoofs, shrill chorus of talk 
and laughter, chattering of negroes and barking of dogs. 
The dining-room of San Benito is entirely open, on 
one side, to the court, at the farther end of which 
are grouped, not unpicturesquely, our own servants 
and horses. The guests at table number twenty-two, 
— not including the dogs underneath the board, nor 
the parrots, pigeons, and chickens, that hover above 
"and around, to pick up the crumbs. Neither do I take 
into the account a small army of cadaverous, squealing 
pigs, nor a scorpion that suddenly appears on a rough 
rafter, over Conchita's head, and is despatched with 
some difficulty by the joint" forces of three of the gen- 
tlemen, two of the servants, a cane, a riding-whip, an 
umbrella, and two brooms, in the midst of general con- 
fusion and dismay. However, this little digression 
11 



242 jrr winter in cuba. 

only serves to stimulate conversation ; everybody talks, 
laughs, expletizes, and gesticulates, at the same moment, 
only screaming louder as the chorus swells higher, — the 
pigeons and chickens taking their full shares in the talk, 
and the parrots adding their shrill laughter to the merri- 
ment. Notwithstanding these oddities, the dinner is 
served with a sufficient amount of Cuban state and cere- 
mony. There is a deal of cut-glass and silver plate; 
the courses are many, the viands excellent, the attend- 
ance adequate. I sit at the right of our host ; and never 
was the English language so broken into inch pieces, so 
deftly cemented together again with pantomimic gesture, 
and so artfully twisted into elaborate compliment, as by 
that dark, smiling, low-voiced, and gray-haired Don 
Diego. A dinner whereat he presides must needs have a 
stronger flavor of the court than of the country, des- 
pite pigs, parrots, chickens, and scorpions. 

The feast being ended, there is an almost unanimous 
withdrawal to the broad, airy piazza. The two elder 
gentlemen, only, remain behind with their cigars ; the 
younger ones composedly light theirs outside. The 
practice of smoking is so universal in Cuba, it is consid- 
ered so much a matter of course, that ladies are seldom 
asked if it is disagreeable to them, — never, except as 
the merest formality, the reply being taken for granted. 
I am not a little surprised, therefore, when Don Diego 
joins our party, to see his son Casimiro remove his 
cigar from his mouth, and, holding it on the side remote 
from the elder gentleman, quietly slip away to the far- 
ther end of the piazza to finish it. I am so struck by 



PLANTATION PICTURES. 243 

the oddity of the circumstance, that I venture to ask 
Engracia, in an aside, what it means. She replies that 
it is an act of disrespect for a son to smoke in the pres- 
ence of his parents. 

" Why ? " I ask, with pardonable obtuseness, seeing 
that the parents all smoke, to a man (and sometimes to a 
woman), and cannot well help knowing that their sons 
unhesitatingly follow their example 

" Es un vicio, V. sabe!" (It is a vice, you know), she 
answers, with a little grimace, and a most expressive 
shrug of the shoulders. 

The evening lets us into the mysteries of Cuban 
courtship, — if there can be said to be any mystery about 
a thing which must needs be carried on so openly. In 
one corner of the sala, the eldest son of the house is 
pouring soft whispers into the willing ear of his cousin 
Caterina, who is formally betrothed to him ; at one end 
of the double row of chairs, the second son is doing the 
very same thing to the beautiful Conchita, of Santa 
Sofia ; farther on, the third, a round, stolid, good-natured 
youth of nineteen, is by the side of his fair fiancee of 
twenty-two, who is also his mother's sister, and conse- 
quently his aunt y and the younger members of both 
households are likewise arranged in cooing pairs ; all of 
which goes to show that love is early fledged in Cuba, 
and often flies in strange directions. 

Into this soft concert of wooing somebody sends a 
proposition for jx dance. Josifa goes to the piano, the 
party quickly resolves itself into couples (where it is not 
already done), and begins the slow, dreamy, circling 



244 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

measures of the favorite contra-danza. Old and young 
join, even to the grandmother ; and round and round 
they go, solemn, stately, and deliberate, as the planets 
in their courses, — now and then facing each other for a 
right and left, and then going round and round again, — 
till one's brain reels with the sight, and the chairs and 
tables, the pictures and the lights, seem to be going 
round and round, too. There is no doubt at all about 
the negroes in the court, — their low laughter and the 
rhythm of their feet, as they whirl and stamp to the 
sound of the music, are plainly to be heard ; and very 
likely I might see the pigs and the chickens, the parrots 
and the pigeons, amicably revolving and balancing in 
company, if I were not too sleepy to look out. For it 
is getting fearfully late; that slow, dreamy, tireless 
dance was certainly meant for eternity rather than time, 
— people who have only an earthly afternoon or even- 
ing before them ought never to engage in it. However, 
it is finally brought to an end, the volantes and saddle- 
horses are ordered round, there is a pleasant tangle of 
kissing and leave-taking on the piazza, a rapid mount- 
ing of seats and saddles, a clear-toned " Vamos ! " from 
Don Gervasio, and we are en route for Santa Sofia. 

I came in a volante, but I return on horseback, hav- 
ing exchanged places with Josifa, for reasons of no value 
to anybody but the owner. It is my first trial of a 
Cuban saddle, but having been early accustomed to ride 
on any saddle — or none, at a pinch — it gives me no 
trouble. Especially, as my pony's gait is scarcely less 
light, stealthy, and swift, than that of a phantom-horse. 



PLANTATION PICTURES. 245 

It stirs me not in the saddle, it makes a seeming dead 
level of all the ruts and roughnesses of the road, — I 
might cany a brimming cup in my hand, and spill no 
drop of its contents. Our way is a combination of 
tropical light, warmth, stillness, and fragrance, too de- 
lectable to be fully enjoyed otherwise than slowly and 
•silently, drop by drop ; so Juan and I quietly fall into 
die rear, and let the noise and confusion of our miscella- 
neous party gradually die away in the forward distance. 
The moonlight (have I ever before mentioned Cuban 
moonlight ?) is like a spell of enchantment ; it seems to 
set the scene entirely apart from the every-day world. 
It glorifies the palm-groups with a grace too fair for 
aught but the banks of the River of Life ; it transfigures 
the canefields into a shining sea of glass ; it makes of 
the forest an enchanted ground of rippling lights and 
tremulous shadows; it breathes through the long, arched, 
and columned vistas of the grand old palm avenues the 
very spirit of consecration. The air is full of the incense 
of unseen flowers, — unseen, save where the light finger 
of a moonbeam touches some white or yellow chalice 
into unearthly beauty and delicacy. "We recognize the 
mangrove, the jessamine, the lime, the heliotrope, and 
the wild grapevine, by their fragrant breath ; and we are 
caught and held entranced by the odorous blossoms of a 
bitter orange-tree, that lean far over the road and touch 
our cheeks with their dewy lips. 

Suddenly, a song, faint but lusciously sweet, rises 
from a remote thicket. Spellbound we listen, as it 
slowly draws near, — swelling higher and higher, till the 



246 MY WINTER IN CUBA, 

boughs overhead seem possessed with the very soul of 
melody, as well as of fragrance, — and breaks off abruptly, 
at last, as if the singer might have been startled by the 
sight of our statuesque figures. 

" What is it ? " I ask Juan, drawing a long breath. 

" It is a nightingale," he answers, absently. 

Is he dreaming of the orange groves of Andalusia? 
or are there nightingales in Cuba? But I will not 
break the silence by a sound. Be it a nightingale for- 
evermore I 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

FIRE IN THE CANE ! 

T3UT the latter days of my stay at Santa Sofia were 
to be made memorable by more stirring pictures. 
We were sitting on the piazza, one morning — Dona 
Angela, Engracia, and I — when I noticed a light, fleecy 
cloud rising slowly over the fruit gardens in the rear; 
which gradually increased in volume, and deepened in 
color, until a faint odor of smoke began to pervade the 
atmosphere. Then my companions suddenly started up 
with alarmed faces, and rapid exclamations and ques- 
tions. Presently, an unusual stir and excitement be- 
came apparent in the sugar-house — the engineer, and 
others came out and stood in knots, discussing the 
smoke and its possibilities. Don Julio quickly joined 
them, and messengers were sent forth in hot haste. 
There was a short interval of seething suspense and 
expectation ; and then a panic-stricken negro came flying 
up the road, calling out breathlessly those words most 
appalling to a planter's ears, " El fuego en la carta!" 
(Fire in the cane !) The adjacent plantation, La Bel- 
lorita, was on fire ! 

Then ensued a scene of such terror and confusion as 
seemed to me quite disproportioned to the occasion. 



248 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

The sefioritas wept and wrung their hands, Doiia Angela 
gathered her three children in her arms and held them 
tight, with an expression that seemed to say that no fire 
should break through that loving barrier, and the elder 
lady strove vainly to control her trembling hands and 
quivering lips. I knew, of course, that destruction of 
the cane meant pecuniary loss to the planter, but I did 
not then know that these fires frequently swallow up 
dwellings, negro-quarters, sugar-houses, cattle, and even 
human life, in their progress, leaving nothing behind 
but a black, smoking desolation. 

Don Julio mounts his horse and rides off to the 
scene of the conflagration, to offer his assistance to his 
suffering friend. The field-hands are called in, formed 
into gangs, under drivers, and sent off after him. Later 
in the day, the engine is stopped, for the first and only 
time in the season, and all the resources of the estate 
are strained to the utmost to meet and conquer the ter- 
rible foe. Meanwhile, the black cloud of smoke spreads 
and rises, hanging a veil over the face of the sun, which 
shoots through it only feeble, yellowish rays ; and we 
women watch and wait, under the constant excitement 
of bulletins from the fire. Now it spreads — now it is 
stayed — now it breaks from all control and marches 
triumphantly over the estate, burning carts and oxen 
where they stand, and driving the frightened negroes 
before it ! Now it has reached the sugar-house, and 
machinery, furnaces, and boilers, are wrapped in a sheet 
of wrathful flame ! Now it attacks the barracon, and 
the poor homes and possessions of the negroes are quickly 



FIRE IN THE CANE. 249 

laid in ashes ! Now, the patients are brought out of the 
hospital, and that becomes a savory morsel for the tooth 
of the destroyer. Must the mansion burn, too ? For a 
time, its fate trembles in the balance. Fortunately there 
was but little shade or verdure around it, and that little 
was cut down and borne off in the first alarm ; more- 
over, it is girdled with a host of negroes and coolies, 
armed with bushes, blankets, buckets of water, and 
whatever may arrest the flames, — and so, it escapes ! 

But the fire is spreading rapidly in the direction of 
Santa Sofia, and Don Julio finds that, in order to save 
one part of his plantation, he must sacrifice another. 
Several acres of cane are quickly isolated from the rest, 
by clearing a broad belt all around them, and the torch 
is set to the doomed fields. Slowly, light wreaths of 
smoke curl upward, and spread and darken, red tongues 
of fire fork and flare among them ; then a black, dense 
cloud sweeps grandly over the field, with lurid banners 
of flame in the midst, and a sound like the surging of 
a stormy sea. It rushes, red and angry, toward the 
advancing fire beyond — the columns of smoke meet and 
mingle — the flames grapple each other with a fierce, ex- 
ultant roar — they rise, and fall, and leap, and wrestle 
together — they wreathe and twist, and flash and flare, 
in the death-struggle — they rise again, and quiver, and 
flicker, and fall to rise no more. On this side, the fire 
is arrested, and Santa Sofia is saved ! 

But on*our neighbor's ground, the fight still goes 
on, and not until evening does Don Julio ride back to 
say that all is over. Then the negroes come slowly and 
11* 



250 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

wearily homeward, — a forlorn, haggard, begrimed, ut- 
terly exhausted company, with some burned limbs and 
blistered faces among them. These are ordered to the 
hospital, and the rest are locked into quarters, with an 
intimation that two or three days of entire rest will be 
given them before they are remanded to labor — which 
brings a little light into their stolid faces. Some of the 
least exhausted of them, however, after a brief season 
of rest and refreshment, must needs be detailed as a 
night-watch, under the supervision of the contra-may- 
orales; for sparks are still rising from the late scene of 
conflagration, and may be wafted into neighboring cane- 
fields. 

Sweet, after this exciting day, is the serenity of the 
tropical night, with its coronet of stars, its mellow efful- 
gence of moonlight, its breath of coolness and balm. We 
draw together on the piazza, and rehearse the incidents of 
the fire, discovering new touches of the comic or the pa- 
thetic ; or we discuss its origin, wondering whether the 
incendiary spark fell from the furtive cigar of a slave, 
transgressing the order not to smoke in the cane, or was 
flung abroad by the railway engine this morning, as it 
steamed across a corner of La Bellorita, half a mile dis- 
tant. And as we talk, the breeze comes to us across the 
flower-beds of the little front enclosure, and its perfume 
changes from rose to geranium, from violet to heliotrope, 
from orange to verbena and mignonette. And our sleep 
is undisturbed, for the ingenio is dark and silent, and 
nought is heard save the faint, hourly cry of the night- 
watch, echoing across distant canefields. 



FIRE IN THE CANE. 251 

The next morning we ride over to the ruins. Acres 
upon acres of blackened stalks of cane, with red sparks 
of fire in them, and slender columns of gray smoke 
over them ; charred frames of carts, and blistered bodies 
of oxen ; heaps of ashes and embers to mark the sites 
of the barracon and hospital, and woe-begone, home- 
less wretches crawling over them ; the huge, black skel- 
eton of the engine grimly overlooking the dingy debris 
of the sugar-house ; and in the midst, the white colon- 
naded mansion staring out, still and ghostly, over the 
dreary waste ! 

I am amazed to learn that those prostrate, grimy 
stalks are still available for a dark, heavy, most inferior 
quality of sugar, if quickly worked up ; and my host 
has already sent his neighbor an elaborately worded 
message, which, however, is as full of genuine kindness 
as of Cuban courtesy, since it places his own sugar-house, 
and all the accessories, at his immediate disposal. 

" It will leave the boilers and vats in such a state 
that my own sugar will be dingy for days afterward," 
he says to me, " but there is no telling how soon I may 
need the same favor, and we planters always do it for 
each other. I presume that Don Hernandez has his 
choice of half the ingenios in the vicinity. When all is 
done, his loss will not be less than three hundred 
thousand dollars." 



CHAPTER XXV. 



A CAFETAL. 



rpHE eyes of the morning were not yet opened when 
Chiquita — the pretty, soft-voiced lady's maid of 
Santa Sofia — stood at my bedside. " The compliments 
of Don JuaD, setiora, and he kisses your adorable lit- 
tle hands, and throws himself at your beautiful little 
feet, and would it please you to take an early drive this 
morning." 

Perhaps it would be too much to say that a long 
sojourn in the United States has taken the fine edge off" 
from Juan's native courtesy, yet certain it is that he 
would not send those flowers of Spanish rhetoric to an 
American market. But Chiquita, doubtless, thought 
the omission accidental rather than deliberate, and 
so made over his simple message into something 
more accordant with her own notions of fitness, before 
she delivered it into my amused ears. There is never 
any doubt that a Cuban servant will do full justice to 
the most elaborately complimentary message you choose 
to send; the chances are that she will "better the 
instruction." 

When our volante came to the door, the day had 
just gotten its eyes open, and its roseate smile bright- 



A CAFETAL. 253 

ened the hilltops. At first, our way lay through green 
levels of dew-gemmed sugar-cane, and was frequently 
bordered by stately old palms, whose boughs shone and 
rustled like satin in the sweet, fresh breeze of the trop- 
ical morning. I also noticed with interest hedges of 
aloe, — better known to us 'as the century plant, — with 
tall, tree-lik# stems, from which the crimson or yellow 
blossoms had lately fallen, rising from them here and 
there ; and I inquired of our old, white-headed calesero 
if it was true that they flowered but once in a hundred 
years? "I think not, seflora" he answered, smiling. 
" I am certain that some of those plants have bloomed 
twice in my remembrance. Others, to be sure, have 
not bloomed at all." 

The soil of these plantations is noticeably red in 
color, resembling nothing so much as moist brickdust, 
but it is exceedingly fertile. The sugar-cane grows to 
the height of eight or ten feet, and the stalks are thick 
and succulent. In it we saw negroes and coolies at 
work, each gang being supervised by a driver — or con- 
tra-mayoral, as he is termed here, — with a whip in his 
hand, as a badge of office. Every laborer had a bright, 
sharp machete— an instrument which is half a sword 
and half a sickle ; two strokes of this stripped the up- 
right stalk of its long leaves, and a third laid it on the 
ground. They worked silently and swiftly, and the 
dense, waving cane fell fast before them. After them 
came ox-carts, with frames in them, which were quickly 
loaded with the stalks, and driven off to the sugar- 
house. The leaves serve as food for the cattle. 



254 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

On the outskirts of the plantation, dividing the culti- 
vated fields from those where Nature still had everything 
her own way, we found stone walls, similar in construc- 
tion to those of New England, but far prettier in general 
effect ; since the Great Mother, being unable to get rid 
of them, had kindly taken them in hand, and done her 
best to make them beautiful with rich browrfc>f weather- 
stains, and soft greenery of mosses, and close-clinging 
drapery of flowering vines, and a dense border of luxu- 
riant ferns and other accumulated tropical vegeta- 
tion; among which, growing wild, were many of the 
plants that we cultivate in gardens at home. In the 
thickets, I frequently beheld the dreary spectacle of 
some fine forest tree, strangling in the embrace of the 
jaguey-marcho, the most deadly of parasites. It com- 
mences its insidious work indiscriminately among the 
branches or on the trunk of the tree, and in a few years, 
the body of its victim is almost, or wholly, covered with 
a curious, gnarled, twisted, and interlaced overgrowth, 
varying from an inch to two or three inches in thick- 
ness ; and its stiff, yellowish green foliage mixes with the 
richer and more graceful verdure which it is its purpose 
to destroy. By and by, the throttled tree pales and 
droops, the trunk seems to heave and strain with a vain 
effort to burst its fetters, then it slowly withers, dies, 
and crumbles away ; and the miserable parasite is left 
standing alone, for a time, flaunting its fetid, yellow 
flowers over the grave of its late companion. But retri- 
bution is at hand. At the first touch of the hurricane, 
sweeping up from the south — the first onset of the tempest 



A CAFETAL. 255 

marching down from the north — the hollow mockery of 
a tree falls with a crash, to mingle its ashes with those 
of its betrayed friend, by whose help it lived its heart- 
less life, and reached its temporary elevation. JEl cupey 
belongs to the same order as the jaguey-marcho, and 
strongly resembles it in its habits and appearance ; but 
the smaller parasitical plants, of which there are many, 
are often graceful of form, and beautiful with every hue 
of blossoms. 

We might have spent the entire morning pleasantly 
in the lanes and avenues of Santa Sofia, had we chosen, 
so large an area does it cover; but Juan designed to 
show me a cafetal / and after crossing one or two adja- 
cent plantations, we came upon a pleasant tract of hill- 
country, and were soon in the midst of a sylvan scene 
that seemed to take the Garden of Eden out of the mists 
of tradition, and make it a matter of visual experience. 
The coffee-plant needs to grow under shade ; therefore 
the estate is first planted with whatever fruit and shade 
trees are most to the owner's taste, and becomes a vast 
grove of cocoa, tamarind, mango, cedar, guava, plan- 
tain, cacao, magnolia, mimosa, guanabana, etc. Under 
these grows the coffee plant, an evergreen shrub, covered 
with snowy, fragrant blossoms, greatly similar to the 
white jessamine, and a round, cherry-like fruit, of change- 
ful hues of green, white, yellow, and red, according to its 
degree of maturity, — both fruit and flowers being found 
on the shrub at the same time. It grows naturally to 
a height of sixteen or eighteen feet, but is kept pruned 
down to five or six, for greater convenience in picking. 



256 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

These groves are permeated by shady, winding paths, 
in which it would be a delight to lose one's self, and 
divided into regular squares by broad avenues of palms, 
and narrower alleys of orange, mango, and other 
beautiful tropical trees. Interspersed everywhere are 
flowering shrubs and vines, — the oleander, the pome- 
granate, the allspice, the lemon, the lime, the yellow 
elder, roses, jessamines, the tree mignonette, the scarlet 
pe?io?i, and a hundred others, with blossoms of every 
hue and odor. The cactus family is largely represented, 
the most highly prized variety being the night-bloom- 
ing cereus, which seems an aspiring plant, climbing 
walls and gateways, and catching hold of the boughs of 
trees, the better to mount into a region of purer air 
and clearer light. And everywhere, amid the sunshine 
and the flowers, are butterflies and humming-birds, and 
innumerable insects, some changefully gleaming with 
prismatic tints, others flashing like animated gems. 

Thus, it will be seen, the cafetal becomes an immense 
pleasure garden, — full of flowers and fruit — rich cano- 
pies of verdure and soft glooms of shade — pleasant, 
meandering walks — and green archways of interlacing 
boughs, through which the sunshine seems to drip more 
goldenly than elsewhere. The Cubans call it "Para- 
dise," and I thought it the loveliest, peacefulest, most 
sylvan and flowery abode that ever the taste or thrift of 
man devised for himself. How safe, good, and happy, 
life ought to be in such a lovely environment ! If it is 
not so, if the weakness and wickedness of human nature 
are fostered even here, one may as well give over, once 



A CAFETAL. 25*7 

for all, waiting for the good time and favorable circum- 
stances which seem so essential to the work of self- 
amendment, and straightway set about it, in whatever 
narrow path and meagre outlook are open to him. 

In one of the avenues we came upon a dark, middle- 
aged gentleman, leaning upon a cane, who, recognizing 
our volante and calesero as the property of a neigh- 
bor and friend, lifted his hat to us, introduced himself 
as the proprietor of the estate, and besought us to taste 
of his fruit. A lithe mulatto boy was forthwith sdt to 
climbing trees ; and the fruits thereof, with the morning- 
dew still on them, were showered into the volante; 
while our new acquaintance amused himself with prepar- 
ing various unfamiliar varieties for me to try, and 
watching the effect. One sort was handed to me with 
so transparently mischievous a smile, that I was fore- 
warned of evil at once, and took care not to plunge 
rashly into its acid depths ; but a slight flavor thereof 
sufficed to set all my teeth on edge. 

" What can it possibly be used for ? " I ask, shud- 
dering. 

"The expressed juice -often serves in lieu of. vinegar, 
and we make a good preserve of the ripe fruit," is the 
answer. 

My glance goes back to the . specimen in my hand, 
and rests there meditatively. "Can I afford you any 
further information ? " asks the polite Don. 

" ISTo — yes — that is, seizor, I should like to know how 
many sugar-crops are required to sweeten a jar of that 
preserve ! " Whereat he laughs as heartily as a Span- 
iard ever deigns to laugh. 



258 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

Nor did the Don's attentions stop here. He intro- 
duced us to a. pair of flamingoes in a pen, — odd, long- 
legged and long-necked birds of the crane family, 
awkward in movement, but of the most beautiful rose- 
color, shading into white, and not less than four feet 
high. He gave me a branch of the Flor de Pascua, or 
Easter Flower, with cream-colored, wax-like blossoms, 
and foliage of bright scarlet. He exhibited" a specimen 
of the guana, or lace-tree, the bark of which, when duly- 
soaked in water, is capable of being separated into in- 
numerable webs, of a delicate, mull-like texture, which 
are embroidered, and used as a substitute for lace. 
Seeing a chameleon on a tamarind tree near us, lie sent 
the aforesaid mulatto boy in chase of that, and dis- 
sertated learnedly upon its habits and changes of color. 
Finally, he showed us through the coffee-buildings. 

The operations of the cafetal present nothing of the 
hard and repulsive features of the ingenio. It is simply 
an easy and beautiful system of horticulture, on a most 
extensive scale. The labor is chiefly manual, and the 
profit is derived directly from the culture and products 
of the soil, without the intervention of costly machinery, 
or the necessity of much scientific knowledge and skill. 
There is no occasion for night labor, and the negroes 
looked altogether heartier and happier than those of the 
ingenio. During the winter months, they are employed 
in gathering the various and abundant fruits for market, 
and in tending the coffee-plants. From August to De- 
cember, the coffee-berries mostly ripen, when they are 
about the size and general appearance of our red cher- 



A CAFETAL. 259 

ries. The coffee-berry, or grain, of commerce, is the seed 
of this fruit ; two of which are contained in each berry, 
having their flat surfaces together, and a sweet, muci- 
laginous pulp around them. The ripe berries are picked 
carefully, by hand, in baskets, and spread on secaderos, 
or driers, — certain large, wooden frames, where they are 
exposed to the sun by day, and protected from the dew 
by night, for "about three weeks, or until they are quite 
dry and hard. They are next cracked open, and the 
seed dislodged, by means of a heavy, wooden wheel, 
moving in a circular trough which is kept filled with the 
dried fruit. They are then passed through a fanning- 
mill, which clears them from the dried pulp, and sepa- 
rates the larger grains from the smaller ones, with the 
help of a wire sieve which allows the latter, with the 
dirt, to fall through into a receiver, and passes on the 
former to a different receptacle. The contents of the 
receiver are then spread out on long tables, at which a 
company of negroes are seated, who pick out the dirt, 
and make a separate heap of the broken grains. The 
coffee is then bagged, and ready for market. Some of 
the older trees produce a small, well rounded berry, 
which is reckoned equal to the finest Mocha. 

The coffee-culture, however, is fast declining in Cuba, 
on account of the little encouragement it receives from 
the Home Government, the successful competition of 
Brazil and the French Antilles, and the greater profits 
of sugar-making. Year by year, therefore, these lovely 
gardens and groves are cleared, and transformed, as far 
as the nature of the ground will admit, into a vast 



260 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

monotony of sun-steeped cane-fields. For the cane 
loves sun, not shade, and wherever it appears, the trees 
fall, — except in the few palm-avenues which are retained 
for boundaries and roadways, and the shade trees of the 
easa de vivienda. 

It was with difficulty that our new friend was con- 
strained to limit his favors to the bestowal of flowers 
and fruit, and the exhibition of natural curiosities and 
coffee-buildings. He invited us to take coffee, to take 
wine, to stay and dine with him, to spend the night, 
and make a more thorough investigation of the premises ; 
all of which hospitalities we were obliged steadfastly to 
decline, and set our faces toward Santa Sofia. For, this 
being my last day in that delightful precinct, I was un- 
willing to lose so much of the society of its inmates, 
between whom and myself there had sprung up one of 
those wayside friendships — rapid in growth as Jonah's 
gourd, but not necessarily so transitory — which con- 
tribute so much to the pleasure of travel. Hitherto, I 
frankly confess, I had not found the Cuban ladies and 
myself entirely in harmony; our education, religion, 
habits of life and thought, were so dissimilar that the 
maintenance of a certain degree of reserve had seemed a 
wise precaution against uncomfortable jarring of senti- 
ment. But Dona Angela and I suited to the core of our 
hearts ; nor was this consonance anywise disturbed by 
her frank avowal of all manner of Spanish prejudice and 
misconception, nor the many rude Americanisms with 
which I parried them. She was very severe on our civil 
war, had a holy horror of "Jilibusteros" and could be 



A CAFETAL. 261 

especially eloquent about the length of our" tax-list. * 
I predicted the speedy adoption of republican institutions 
in Spain, the ultimate absorption of Cuba by the United 
States, and produced my " ticket of disembarkation " 
and my subsequent " permits " for travel and for resi- 
dence. She ridiculed the squeamishness of American 
women, alleging that it was currently reported in Cuba 
that they never confessed to a pain in any organ lower 
than the throat, even to their family physician. I re- 
torted that it was as universally believed in the United 
States that all Cuban ladies smoked. She animad- 
verted upon the flippancy, free manners and flirtations 
of our young ladies ; and I commented on the vacuity 
and inefficiency of her countrywomen. Privately, how- 

* It may not be amiss to mention some items of Cuban taxation. 
There is a poll-tax, an income-tax, a tax upon industry, property, 
and commerce. All crops pay a per centage. All contracts must 
be made upon stamped paper, furnished by the government at (if I 
remember correctly) eight dollars per sheet. Permits, or licenses, 
must be obtained for opening a school, store, market, place of 
public amusement or entertainment, for street-vending, for enter- 
ing a profession, for building or repairing, for changing residence 
(whether from house to house, or town to town), for giving a 
party, for keeping a carriage, for hiring out a slave, for issuing a 
paper or pamphlet, and for travelling in the island, and a passport 
must be obtained for leaving it, — any failure to obtain which per- 
mits is punishable by a fine. Less than half the revenue thus 
obtained is required for the governmental expenses of the island, 
the remainder is remitted to the Home Government. .No wonder 
that Cuba has received the expressive, if inelegant, nickname of 
" La vaca de leche de Espafla " — the milch cow of Spain ! 



262 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

ever, I more than half concurred with Dona Angela in 
her last stricture. Not that I would willingly see the 
rigid Cuban code of propriety adopted in my own land, 
since a little more freedom of action is quite compatible 
with true delicacy ; and fosters, moreover, that courage 
and self-reliance which may be purity's best safeguards. 
But it must be acknowledged that, in our society, the 
liberty of young people is fast degenerating into a 
license that must needs be as pernicious in its effects, as 
it is unlovely in its manifestations. Very few Amer- 
ican girls, nowadays, possess that tender grace of 
budding womanhood, folded about with soft veilings of 
gentle humility and maidenly reserve, which is, never- 
theless, girlhood's most potent charm. 

We returned to Santa Sofia by a different road, 
taking in our way several small farms, variously termed 
vegaSy potreros, sitios, esta?icias f and fincas, according 
as they made a specialty of tobacco, cattle, fruits, and 
vegetables, or bees. The houses were generally rude in 
make and material, though sometimes roomy, and with 
numerous outbuildings ; the most usual pattern being a 
rough construction of bamboo poles, sided with palm- 
boards and thatched with palm-leaves, consisting of a 
living-room and a sleeping-room or two, all on one floor ; 
connected with which, by a simple roof, was a small 
kitchen. Here we saw the guajiro, or countryman, at 
home. He was at once simple and astute, active and 
lazy, brave and boastful, superstitious and irreligious, 
domestic* and vagabond. He did no regular work, but 
divided his time about equally between overseeing the 



A CAFETAL. 263 

handful of negroes, or other laborers, employed on his 
place, and in gambling, cock-fighting, and loafing. He 
was not unintelligent, at least, as regarded his own busi- 
ness ; and he had the innate Cuban courtesy of manner. 
He gladly showed us all that we cared to see, politely 
answered our questions, and did not suffer us to depart 
without a pressing invitation to take coffee — the univer- 
sal Cuban beverage. 



CHAPTER XXVL 

BEMBA AND LIMONAR. 

(~\N tlie following morning the volante was at the 
door at daybreak, and I took leave of Santa Sofia 
with genuine regret, knowing that henceforth it was 
lost from my actual life, however greenly its memories 
mi~ht cling to my heart. We were to return to Matan- 
zas by a different route, and a drive of three or four 
miles brought us to Bemba, a small town where we 
were to take the cars. The train had not arrived when 
we alighted at the depot, — a most uninviting spot for 
even a temporary sojourn. So dismissing the calesero, we 
began, with our restless American habit, to promenade 
up and down the principal street, followed by the gaze 
of half the population. Nothing more unlike an Amer- 
ican town can well be imagined. It consisted of two 
or three narrow streets, irregularly paved with small 
round stones, and bordered by rows of contiguous 
houses, of different heights and dates, but all run in the 
inevitable one-storied, massive- walled, red-tiled mould; 
and all apparently of an antiquity that might be called 
venerable, but which was possibly owing as much to 
the ageing influences of the climate as to the lapse of 
years. Their interiors were correspondingly shabby and 



BEMBA AND LIMONAR. 265 

dingy, with the usual paucity of furniture, and looked 
as if they might have been inhabited by a long succes- 
sion of unthrifty generations. Turning a corner, we 
found a row of still poorer houses, very coarsely and 
clumsily built, and stuck so close together as to give a 
dismal impression of a sombre, stifled, festering, un- 
wholesome atmosphere for the occupants. This fashion 
of paving village streets, and building village houses in 
such close proximity, shuts out every rural charm, — 
all those soft depths of verdure and shade, and pleasant 
mosaics of grass-plot and garden, which make a New 
England village so picturesque an object. Not a tree, 
nor shrub, nor blade of grass, brightened the scene; 
and the sky was merely a narrow, shimmering strip 
overhead. 

The town was so small that I had twice traversed 
its entire length, within a few minutes ; passing each 
time a little coffee-house, whose stone floor joined the 
street pavement, and whose small round tables en- 
croached upon that narrow pathway to an inconvenient 
extent. - At one of these sat a handsome, portly gentle- 
man, with a cheerful twinkle in his eye ; whose table 
service narrowly escaped being swept off by my gar- 
ments at every turn. On my third appearance this 
personage rose, bowed low, and said, with inimitable 
grace of phrase and manner, " As there was yet some 
time before the train was due, and the village offered 
little to interest strangers, and the sun was exceeding 
hot, perhaps we would do him the honor to take a cup 
of coffee with him, while we waited. Otherwise " (an- 
12 



266 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

other low bow) " his unhappy table must beg pardon for 
being so much in our way." 

It was good to find so fair a flower of the generous, 
old-time hospitality springing up in the midst of the 
selfish modern civilization, and I could not find it in my 
heart to leave it unplucked. So I nodded to Juan, and 
we sat down opposite the courtly stranger, in the narrow 
street of the quaint little town, and partook of his coffee 
and rolls, and listened to his humorous, meandering talk, 
and answered his questions about those United States 
which he had always meant to visit for himself, but would 
never now behold, it was plain to see. For the slug- 
gish spell of the fervid Cuban sky was strong upon 
him, and he would dream away his life in that quiet, 
queer old town, brightening Hs memory to strangers 
with the amaranthine flower of an unsurpassed and un- 
surpassable courtesy, knowing nothing of the outside 
world save what the train and the newspaper brought 
him, and wondering, by and by, when it was that he 
grew so old ! 

"We also made a brief stop at the little village of 
Limonar, highly recommended to invalids as a place of 
residence for the spring months, on account of its pure 
and invigorating air. It lies in the midst of a gently 
undulating and deeply fertile country, with here and 
there a wooded hill, and on one side, a blue chain of 
mountains. Its outward aspect is that of all Cuban 
villages, — a small %ilaza^ planted with palms, a church, 
two or three posadas, or inns, a few shops, and a cluster 
of red-tiled roofs. Its inhabitants seemed very idle in the 



BMMBA AND LIMONAB, 267 

warm, summery clay, they were seated at their open doors 
and windows, or gathered in little groups on the side- 
walks, leisurely chatting together, and coolly observant 
of the passing stranger. It was all very dreamy, and very 
picturesque, — the idle groups, the little plaza steeped in 
warmth and languor, the distant mountains wrapped in 
slumbrous folds of haze, and, on the green, breeze-kissed 
hillsides, the plumy cocoa-nut trees rocking themselves 
to sleep. 

I saw nothing worth noting, in the matter of scenery, 
on my homeward journey; there was only the old 
material of hills and valleys, palms, ceibas and cane- 
fields, kaleidoscopically wrought into new pictures, 
which one would never tire of gazing upon, but which 
may well become wearisome in my feeble sketches. But 
I did find an order of beings in those cars, that, to my 
long unwonted eyes, seemed now to be seen for the first 
time. Certain commercial agents, from the United 
States, were on board, making a tour of the plantations, 
with designs upon the forthcoming sugar crops. Their 
figures did not appear to advantage, drawn in strong 
light and shade on a background of grave Spanish 
courteousness and dignity. They put their feet on the 
seats, they yawned and stretched, they roamed restlessly 
up and down the passage way, they shouted bad witti- 
cisms to each other from opposite ends of the cars, they 
badgered the conductor, and they smoked as vigorously 
as the Spaniards, but with far greater and more reckless 
expenditure of saliva. They seemed to have left all the 
decent restraints of life at home, to roam lawlessly 



268 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

among a people whereof the ceremonious politeness has 
passed into a proverb. Yet no doubt any one of them 
would have resigned his seat to me instantly, if the 
cars had been crowded, and taken it quite as a matter of 
course, if I had omitted to say " thank you." Verily, 
we are at once the worst and the best mannered people 
in the world ! 

And once again I was startled to find how things 
once familiar had grown strange to me. On a little 
elevation near the railway, with a barren monotony of 
low, wild shrubbery around it, stood one of those brown- 
painted, many-windowed, ornate villas, which are grow- 
ing up everywhere in my own country, but of which 
there is not, I presume, another sj)ecimen in all Cuba. 
I used to think them pretty, and should find them so 
still, doubtless, in surroundings better adapted to them ; 
but beside the grand, simple sweep of the tropical land- 
scape, the toy-like dwelling was insufferably petty and 
finical. I comprehended, then, that architecture must 
necessarily be a growth and not a creation, and that 
every style has some subtle relation to the climate where 
it was born, and does not bear transplanting. The 
straight, simple lines, broad colonnades, and massive cor- 
nice of Santa Sofia came back to me now as the ideal 
perfection of a Cuban dwelling, though I had not 
thought of it before. 

By and by, the lofty head of the Monte del Pan rose 
over the hill ranges, and welcomed me back to Ma- 
tanzas ; which was all the more homelike that I had 
lived there long enough to get a little tired of it before 



BBJUBA AND LIMONAR. 269 

I went away. I suspect that much of the charm of 
home and friends is due to this same placid wontedness, 
verging on tedium; without it there may be gayety, 
excitement, tumultuous alternations of exhilaration and 
depression, but no tranquil, peaceful happiness, " flow- 
ing like a river." Certain it is that the four walls of 
my little room, of which I had grown immensely weary 
before I left them, now took on the most genial, com- 
fortable, restful aspect, making me feel and say from 
my heart, " How good it is to be at home ! " 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

SHADOW. 

rpHOUGH Cuba is justly called a paradise, yet it is an 
earthly one, and subject to earthly conditions. Dis- 
ease and death have their sombre part in its life. And, 
for a brief space, I came just enough within their shadow 
to be able to acquaint my readers with some peculiarities 
of Cuban sick-rooms and Cuban funerals, — though not 
enough to make the task difficult, by reason of recollec- 
tions personally painful. 

I should have said, at the end of the last chapter, 
that I did not enter those four familiar walls without 
some difficulty. The arrival of our volante before the 
Samano threshold being duly announced within, Dona 
Coloma appeared in the door, with a welcoming smile, 
but a warning gesture. There was sickness in the house, 
she said. Dolorita had been seized with doubtful symp- 
toms two days before ; the nature of her disease was still 
uncertain. But the rest of the children had been sent 
to their grandmother, until further developments. Nor 
must I be exposed to danger. Her mother would be 
happy to receive me also. So would her sister Lolita. 
Both had placed their houses unreservedly at my dis- 
posal. I had but to choose, and let the volante convey 
me forthwith to the preferred haven. 



SHADOW. 211 

"What is the disease supposed to be?" I asked, 
going straight at the point hidden under all this careful 
discourse. 

Evidently Dona Coloma found it hard to put her 
fear into plain words. She could not tell — she hoped — 
it might be nothing serious — but — there had been a 
case of small-pox next door — and — 

"Is that all?" I responded, cheerfully. "Then, if 
you do not absolutely shut your doors against me, I shall 
come in. Did we all pass unhurt and undismayed through 
the small-pox epidemic of two months ago, to run away 
from a sporadic case or two, now ? " 

The sefiora's face brightened visibly. Courage is 
contagious, as well as fear. Nevertheless, the atmos- 
phere of the house was far from cheerful. Dolorita was 
quarantined at the farther end of one of the wings. The 
servants moved about stealthily, with panic-shadowed 
faces. There was an unnatural silence and orderliness 
throughout the large rooms and long galleries — no scur- 
rying to and fro of children's feet, no shouting and 
laughter, no litter of play-things. Especially did I miss 
Odila's comical pranks and wild flow of spirits. 

At dusk, the doctor made one of his semi-daily visits. 
Watching him closely, it struck me that he did not look 
like a man in doubt, nor one burdened with a disagree- 
able certainty, though he still declined to speak pos- 
itively with regard to the disease. But he might have 
reasons of his own for keeping others in suspense. In a 
house of so many inmates, a certain degree of anxiety 
and dread was, no doubt, conducive to the quiet and 



272 MY WINTER IX CUBA. 

regularity of the sick-room. And, in the confidence 
thus inspired, I ventured to pay it a visit. 

But, upon my first glance at the patient, I half 
repented of my temerity. Certainly, nothing but small- 
pox could be answerable for a skin like that ! Always 
very dark of complexion, Dolorita was now a perfect 
little blackamoor. Her small countenance was posi- 
tively elfish in its dinginess and its sharpness. This 
effect was enhanced by a large blue cotton handker- 
chief wound round her head, turban-fashion. " What 
for ? " I could not help- asking. " To keep her from 
taking cold," responded her mother. A most unneces- 
sary precaution, it seemed to me, with the thermometer 
ranging from eighty-four to ninety ! 

Observing the dingy face more narrowly, I was 
somewhat reassured to notice that it still had a. very 
natural expression — Dolorita's own habitual self-com- 
placence, rather intensified than otherwise under the 
favorable influences consequent upon being the centre of 
interest, — a position always congenial to the tastes of 
the little maiden. She responded to my polite inquiries 
in a tone wherein a certain satisfaction was so thinly 
masked by a doleful whine, that I was made tolerably 
easy about her, at once. It was plain that her situation 
was neither so dangerous nor so painful but that she was 
able to extract a considerable degree of enjoyment from 
it. And, gradually, a suspicion arose within me that 
the duskiness of her complexion was possibly owing to 
another cause than disease, that a plentiful application 
of soap and water would produce a more magical effect 



SHADOW. 273 

than was ever wrought by the artfullest cosmetic. As 
delicately as might be, I ventured to hint this possibility 
to her mother. She replied, composedly, that Dolorita 
was, without doubt, frightfully dirty ; but, inasmuch as 
she had a little fever, it was impossible to wash her with 
water ; and as she had an insurmountable antipathy to 
aguardiente (cane-rum), and would not allow them to 
touch her with it, there was nothing to be done but to 
let her go unwashed till the fever left her ! 

This dread of water, and the belief in the necessity 
of bundling up a patient's head, seem to be common to 
all Cuban nurses. A medicamental peculiarity is the 
free use of olive oil and garlic, both in professional and 
domestic practice. A favorite article of sick-diet is a 
certain sopa depan, prepared by laying a slice of bread 
(toasted or not, at discretion) in a deep plate, breaking 
a raw egg upon it, and pouring a weak beef or chicken 
broth, boiling hot, over the whole. I remember nothing 
else that was noteworthy in the regimen of the sick- 

9 

room. 

At breakfast, next morning, considerable excitement 
was caused by the sudden appearance of Odila, some- 
what scantily clad in a chemise and an apron. The 
news of my return being the one drop too much in the 
poor child's cup of homesickness, she had eluded the 
vigilance of grandmother and nurse, snatched the 
nearest garments, and made the best of her way home. 
She now threw herself upon my neck in a kind of insane 
rapture, showered me with kisses, choked me with hugs, 
and finally fell to chewing my hair, by way of outlet to 
12* 



274 MY WINTER IX CUBA. 

her overflowing gladness. From this whimsical occupa- 
tion she was torn, perforce, by Atanasia, and, despite 
her frantic struggles and puny wrath, dragged back to 
exile. 

However, it was soon over. That very afternoon, 
the doctor favored us with his professional conclusions. 
Dolorita had been threatened with a fever, but it had 
gracefully yielded to timely and efficient remedies. 
There was no longer any cause for apprehension. Thus 
the shadow — never very deep, except for the possibilities 
that seemed to lurk within it — was lifted from our 
dwelling. 

Scarce a week after, a near neighbor and familiar 
friend died suddenly, of apoplexy. Immediately Dona 
Coloma sent a message of condolence to the afflicted 
family, placed a man-servant at their disposal, and of- 
fered her own assistance in the preparation of mourning 
garments, — the latter friendly office being of special 
avail in a country where the interval between death and 
interment seldom exceeds twenty-four hours. Her offer 
being gratefully accepted, she straightway set to work 
upon certain black material sent her, and scarce inter- 
mitted her labors till the time of the funeral. 

Meanwhile the corpse was laid in state. A platform, 
covered with black cloth, was erected in the middle of 
the sala, upon which the coffin was placed, resting upon 
three large cushions. Around this platform were twelve 
candlesticks, not less than five or six feet high, contain- 
ing lighted wax candles of about the same height ; and 
between these, were smaller ones, — all of which were to 



SJTADOW. 275 

be kept burning until the removal of the corpse. The 
walls, doors, and windows, were lugubriously draped 
with black; as was also an adjoining room, for the use 
of the mourners. A guard of honor kept watch over the 
corpse, composed of servants in livery, furnished by 
friends and neighbors; to which, as aforementioned, 
Doiia Coloma had contributed her quota. The final 
effect of these arrangements was both sombre and im- 
posing. 

At night, it being supposed that the grief of the 
near relatives was too acute to admit of sleep, many of 
the friends of the family, both male and female, joined 
them, to form a velad-a, — a word corresponding very 
nearly, in this sense, to the Irish " wake." At midnight, 
a supper was served ; at which time, the gathering might 
almost have been mistaken for a pleasure-party. On the 
following day, too, just before the funeral, a dinner was 
provided for all present who cared to partake of it. 

At two o'clock, p.m., the funeral rites began with 
the recital of prayers, three or four priests being pre- 
sent, each of whom would receive a fee for his trouble. 
The procession was then formed: the priests led the 
way, on foot, and in their robes, followed by three aco- 
lyths bearing long silver rods surmounted by crosses 
and lighted tapers ; next, came the hearse, with glass 
sides and top, surrounded by the aforesaid guard of 
honor; then a long double file of the male friends and 
acquaintances of the deceased ; and after them, their 
own empty volantes and carriages, and as many others 
as had been sent for the purpose, making a long line of 



276 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

unoccupied vehicles aud liveried coachmen. No females 
joined in the procession, — neither did the nearest male 
relatives of the deceased, — to do so would be deemed 
inconsistent with their grief. All persons in the streets 
stopped and lifted their hats, as the procession passed. 

At the cathedral, there were more candles and more 
prayers, a responsory was sung, and the coffin was 
sprinkled with holy water. The procession then moved 
to the Campo Santo (literally, "holy ground" — other- 
wise, cemetery) — a barren and repulsive spot enough. It 
is surrounded by high walls, and traversed by others, all 
eight or ten feet thick, and honeycombed with row 
upon row of niches for the reception of coffins, — some 
open, some closed with marble slabs bearing the name, 
date of death, etc., of the occupant. The open ground 
between the walls is filled by the graves of the humbler 
classes, all level with the ground, and marked by a 
small horizontal slab ; — here also are a few family 
vaults. There is no ostentation, neither is there any 
beauty ; — the whole is hard, bare, cheerless. 

The coffin, which we have followed thus far, was 
deposited in one of the above-named niches, during the 
recital of prayers ; and the opening was closed. The 
members of the funeral suite then entered their car- 
riages, and drove back to the desolate dwelling. Here, 
the sola had been cleared of the funeral apparatus, and 
filled with rows of chairs, in one of which rows sat the 
bereaved family. The returned suite took seats, and re- 
mained in profound silence for about half an hour. Then, 
one by one, they rose, shook hands with the mourners, 



SHADOW. 211 

and took their leave. Other visits of condolence filled 
up the day. 

One of these was made by Dona Coloma, in the 
evening. Left at home, alone, I turned to the piano for 
amusement. Very soon, Francisca appeared, with an 
extremely troubled face. Being asked the cause thereof, 
she found courage to inform me, with many excuses and 
much begging of pardon, that Dona Coloma would be 
greatly distressed to have the sound of a piano heard 
in the house, so soon after the funeral of an acquain- 
tance. Of course, I closed the instrument at once, and 
thus it remained until the following Sunday, when Dolo- 
rita broke the spell of silence by a spirited waltz. 

It is scarcely necessary to say, after this, that the 
customs of mourning are very strict. Black garments 
are scrupulously worn, society is eschewed, and the 
windows of the bereaved house, opening on the street, 
are kept closed — or partially so, at least — for six months. 



CHAPTER XXVm. 



WAITING IN HAVANA. 



rpHTTS far, my story's movement has been progressive, 
now it takes a backward curve. And there is a 
certain sadness always inseparable from return. On- 
ward — ever onward — is the rule of life, and to turn back 
on the old paths to the old places and the old pursuits, 
seems, at the first glance, to involve some corresponding 
inward retrogradation. Not till the return is consum- 
mated do we learn (and sadly still !) that the soul never 
goes back to the old standpoint, nor the mind to the 
cast-off habit of thought. Nor are the places and the 
faces to which we recur ever quite the same. Time has 
carried them along also ; and so we come to understand, 
finally, that whichever way our footsteps turn, accord- 
ing to human vision and nomenclature, we are ever 
going forward. Life has no absolute retrograde. 

I did not know how many rootlets I had sent down 
into the kindly soil of Matanzas, till the time of leave- 
taking came. Although its name is of dismal import 
enough — meaning literally "The place of slaughter," 
and earned honestly by a wholesale massacre of the crew 
of a Spanish ship by the Indians, in the time of Diego 
Velasquez — it had been a place of renewing of life to 



WAITING IN HAVANA, 279 

mo. And I had gratefully learned it by heart. Few of 
its inhabitants, I fancied, knew more of its ins and outs 
than I did. Day after day I had traversed its narrow 
streets, its bay-kissed 2 mseo t ^ ts flower-embroidered 
plaza y and, evening after evening, I had watched the 
twilight-gray creep up the Cumbre, and the stars smile 
down into the clear depths of the rivers San Juan and 
Yumuri. I was familiar with the gay little shops and 
queer old houses of Versailles, and the narrow crowded 
life and shabby, evil-odored dwellings of Puebla Nueva. 
I had had nothing to do with its work-a-day life, and 
little enough with its social one ; my business and pleas- 
ure had been chiefly to observe ; and I had done that 
so thoroughly con amore y that the things upon which I 
had looked so long seemed to have become a part of me, 
and separation was difficult and painful. Some of the roots 
came up slowly, with the earth still clinging to them; 
others broke off short, with a wrench ; a few refused to 
do either, and subjected their tough and elastic fibre to 
the strain of a voyage over the sea, and the long tension, 
and possible attenuation and decay, of a term of slow- 
rolling years. Nevertheless, I realized that this inde- 
structible tendency of the human heart to send forth 
roots and tendrils, wherever it is transplanted, is a 
comfortable endowment. For Life separates friends 
and exiles patriots. And what were the stress of home- 
sickness, if the affections had no inalienable faculty of 
continuous reproduction and growth ! 

We left Matanzas at ten o'clock, a.m. We have it 
on the authority of Rob Roy McGregor that no wise 



280 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

man returns by the same road he came, provided another 
be open to him ; and although we have not the same 
excellent reasons for preferring a different route as the 
Scotch freebooter (who doubtless found inconvenient 
reckonings to settle on any twice-trod path), there is a 
deep philosophy in his maxim to which we are not 
insensible. So we take the nearer and shorter route to 
Havana, by Regla. The road is not so picturesque as 
the other, nor yet wholly devoid of interest. Every- 
where there is a wide, unwavering level of nower-paven 
valley, or silent, sun-parched plain, stretching away to a 
rugged outline of distant hills, on which the blue arch 
of the sky rests tremulously. And such a blue ! the 
delicate depths of which seem evermore opening before 
our fascinated gaze, until we a^e ready to believe that, 
if we could only look long enough, and purely enough, 
we might behold the jasper foundations and pearly 
gates of the heavenly city. 

The railroad was as straight as a bird's homeward 
flight, involving no triumphs of engineering skill in its 
construction. Looking from the rear car, we saw two 
lines of rail run back, perfectly straight and level, for 
miles, until they met in the distant vanishing point of 
the perspective. Only once did we pass through any 
considerable cutting ; but that keeps fast hold of my 
memory in virtue of the profusion of delicate ferns that 
clung to every nook and cleft of its rough sides, — the 
loveliest, I thought, in the fleeting glimpse I had of 
them, that I had ever seen. And since it was impossible 
to subject them to the disenchantment of actual touch 



WAITING IN HAVANA. 281 

and inspection, they are still preserved in the intangible 
and ineffaceable beauty of a passing, poetic vision. 

Regla, the terminus of the railway, is a quaint, slov- 
enly suburb of Havana, on the opposite bank of the 
harbor. Passing through it, we saw a swift panorama 
of ill-paven streets, and shabby, old houses, with a 
picturesque chronology of stain and patch on their stuc- 
coed walls ; and through their open doorways we caught 
glimpses of half-naked children rolling on the stone floors, 
gambolling and quarrelling, and of untidy mothers, 
lolling in rocking-chairs. Its chief objects of interest 
are found on the water-front,— certain immense ware- 
houses of stone and iron, for the storage of sugar, 
molasses, coffee, etc. They are built in a continuous 
range, fifty-eight in number, with a depth of over three 
hundred feet. A statue of their designer, an enterprising 
Cuban, Don Eduardo Fesser by name, is one of the 
chief ornaments of the place. 

We crossed from Regla to Havana by a steam ferry. 
On the landing we were beset by a band of brigands 
(commonly termed " hackmen "), one of whom suc- 
ceeded in forcing us into a nondescript vehicle, yclept a 
" victoria," tumbled my trunks upon the box, climbed 
atop of them, and rattled off at a reckless rate to a 
building that looked like a stronghold of the Middle 
Ages, but was really the " Hotel Santa Ysabel," once the 
residence of a Spanish nobleman. The street-front was 
penetrated by a heavy archway, leading to a central 
court. It was impossible not to notice the thickness of 
the walls, and the care taken to render the place inac-r 



282 Mr WINTER IN CUBA. 

cessible from the street. The stout folding doors at the 
entrance looked fitter for a fortress than a peaceable 
dwelling, and the windows w r ere defended by thick iron 
bars. 

The court had been roofed over and made to serve 
as a public dining-room. It was filled with small tables, 
and in its centre was a pretty piece of rock-work, with 
ferns and flowers growing out of it, and jets of water 
falling into a basin, w T here I caught the glancing gleams 
of gold-fish. The rooms on the ground-floor, opening 
on the court, were used for storerooms and offices. On 
the right of the entrance, a broad stone staircase led to 
the second floor. A large parlor extended across the 
front, with a balcony overhanging the street. A gallery 
ran around the court, upon which the sleeping-rooms 
opened. These were originally spacious, but had each 
been divided, to suit hotel purposes, into four small 
rooms, by partitions eight or nine feet high ; so that the 
occupants of contiguous rooms could not avoid hearing 
each other's movements and conversation. It mattered 
little now, however, as the hotel was well-nigh deserted. 
Yellow fever had appeared in the city two weeks before, 
and was followed by the usual stampede of foreigners. 

No bells, but, in lieu thereof, the privilege of leaning 
over the gallery rails and shouting, " Criadof" "mit~ 
chachof" or anything you like, until somebody comes. 
Doing this, I evoke from the depth below a certain idiotic 
negro, who tells me he is called "Pablo," but whom I 
shall denominate " Stupido," out of respect to the Apos- 
tle to the Gentiles, and a preference for giving things 



WAITING IJY HAVANA. 283 

their right names. I explain to him, with great circum- 
stantiality, to prevent mistakes, that I want my small 
trunk brought immediately to my room, and the large 
one stored until my departure. After a long interval, 
there is great confusion and turmoil in the gallery, — a 
sound of thumping, and scratching, and scraping, that 
seems to threaten the speedy demolition of something, — 
and looking out, I discover my ark of a travelling trunk 
slowly approaching on Stupido's head ; albeit doing its 
best to meet its owners wishes by thrusting a corner into 
every doorway, and catching on every projection. I con- 
front the bearer and reiterate my directions. The trunk 
retrogrades ; but in course of time I hear it advancing 
up the opposite gallery, in the same unwilling manner. 
I bar the passage, and request to know what is to be 
done with it now. Stupido opines that if the seilora 
does not want it, the senor must, and is taking it to 
Juan's room. " Put it in the baggage room," I repeat. 
"But, seilora, there is no baggage room." "Put it 
where you like then," I exclaim, in a rage, " but do not 
let me see it above stairs again, or you'll not get so 
much as a media for your trouble." The trunk wheels 
about, and recedes. Ten minutes later, Stupido brings 
me an unknown v^alise. I remand that, and the right 
thing comes at last, — chiefly, I suspect, because there is 
nothing else to bring. 

On the broad landing, at the head of the grand stair- 
case, a Spanish Don is reading the " Diario," with that 
air of owning, not only the hotel and the city, but the 
whole island, and a considerable part of the universe 



284 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

besides, which is characteristic of most of the u penin- 
sulanos " (natives of Old Spain) in Cuba. His wife is in 
the parlor, — "fat and forty," certainly, — but not the 
most inveterately idealistic mind could think her " fair." 
Her son Pepito, a little man of four or five years of age, 
and of preternatural grimness and gravity of aspect, 
prowls about with one corner of his small " capa" 
thrown over his shoulder, after the manner of the tradi- 
tional stage-bandit, and with the air of being continually 
on the watch for a foe. These, and a half-dozen com- 
mercial agents, make up the sum total of the hotel's 
guests. 

The Dona intermits her contemplation of the oppo- 
site wall, on my entrance, and enters languidly into 
conversation. She thinks the 4- mei *i cans a charming 
people, but confesses that the spectacle of their activity ' 
and energy is almost too much for her nerves. She 
reports the hotel intolerably dull, and emphasizes the 
statement with a yawn. She complains that Stupido is 
seldom in the way of her orders, and systematically 
misunderstands them, when he is. Finally, she discovers 
that Pepito has slipped out, and is moved to utter a 
Jeremiade on his account. "That child," she says 
dolefully, " has the most incredible faculty for getting 
into mischief; he keeps my nerves continually on the 
stretch. If you should encounter him on your way, will 
you do me the inestimable favor to send him back ? " 

At the farther end of the gallery a bedroom door is 
suddenly flung open, Pepito is somehow ejected, a mo- 
mentary vision of a wrathful hand and boot appears on 



WAITING IN HAVANA. 285 

the threshold, and the door closes with a hang. Seeing 
me on the scene, Pepito heroically resists his inclination 
to cry, picks himself up, folds his capa majestically 
around him, and makes a dignified retreat. Soon after, 
a smothered sound of sobs and cries attests that he has 
found his mother's bosom, and given a natural vent to 
his wounded feelings. 

There was as yet no sign of the American steamer 
which was to bear me and my fortunes from Cuba, nor 
for the two following days ; meanwhile, we killed time 
by visiting such places of interest as we had not seen 
before, or desired to see again. The weather was fear- 
fully hot ; nevertheless, we sturdily adventured through 
the close streets and fervid sunshine, in the face of much 
good-natured remonstrance from people who believe 
that all Americans who put foot out of doors before 
four o'clock, at this season, deliberately offer themselves 
as candidates for the yellow fever. We spent hours 
among the exuberant verdure and brilliant bloom of the 
Botanic Garden, — steadily declining, however, to make 
any acquaintance with the stiff, unwieldly Latin names, 
whereby the gardener would have introduced them to 
us, — and noting how difficult it is to keep tropical nature 
pruned and trimmed to any semblance of order. "We 
painfully toiled up the winding stair of the Cathedral's 
bell-tower, and deciphered the dates and legends of the 
bells; one of which is hundreds of years old, and as 
divinely sweet of tone as if it had continually fed and 
ripened on the echoes of its own melody. We invaded 
the quarters of the bell-ringer, opening on the leads, and 



286 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

with a magnificent outlook over city and bay — a delight- 
ful sanctwn for a bookish man or woman, — and found that 
personage employing his leisure, and eking out his in- 
come, with the manufacture of cigars. We'" descried the 
mural tablet at the corner of the " Calle del Obispo" 
and learned that, just one hundred years ago, Doiia 
Maria Cepero, daughter of the then Governor, was killed 
by the accidental discharge of a gun, while kneeling at 
her devotions near this spot, — a record from which the 
lapse of a century had stolen all the sadness, and made 
it read like a song of triumph. We stormed the Morro 
with the magic words " An American lady who desires 
to see the interior," were admitted without the required 
official permit, and introduced to a dozen huge guns, 
collectively known as the " Twelve Apostles." and indi- 
vidually as " San Mateo" " San Marcos" " San Lucas" 
etc. ; also to much solid, Cyclopean masonry ; also to 
the view of city, shipping, and ocean, from the para- 
pet ; also to the quarters of the garrison, cool as a cave 
(and almost as dark), by reason of the thickness of 
the walls ; also to " The Lantern," a little room where 
the signals, flags, telescopes, etc., are kept, and just 
above which is the beacon, visible forty miles at sea. 
Here, an official in shoulder straps, with a cigar in his 
mouth, graciously exhibited what little there was to be 
seen; but his eyes nearly jumped out of his head when 
he saw me take out my note-book. "Do you know 
what you are doing?" said he. "All writing and 
sketching are strictly forbidden in and about the Morro, 
on pain of fine and imprisonment." Finally, we climbed 



WAITING IX HAVANA. 287 

the long slope to the Cabana fortress, where we saw 
more masonry, more guns, more soldiers, and more views. 
This is the great stronghold of the island, and is said to 
be one of the finest fortifications in the world. The offi- 
cer of the guard obligingly furnished us with an intelli- 
gent guide, who showed us through quarters, barracks, 
storehouses, casemates, and water-batteries, made us note 
the exceeding thickness of the walls, pointed out the many- 
fine views from the parapets, informed us that the fortifi- 
cation was completed in 1771, at a cost of forty millions, — 
in those days an incredible sum, — and related an anec- 
dote in point. Charles III., being then king of Spain, 
no sooner received the report of this enormous expends 
ture, than he seized a spy-glass, and began to scan the 
western horizon. "May I asl$: what your Majesty is 
looking for?" inquired his wondering minister. "For 
the Cabafias" quietly replied the monarch ; — " if it cost 
as much as that, it ought to be large enough to be seen 
at any distance." 

Then we proceeded to the " Uhiversidad de Belen" 
formerly a Franciscan monastery, but since 1854 the 
Royal College of Havana, under the^ direction of the 
" Society of Jesus." It is a fine group of buildings, in 
the form of a hollow square, built of tawny yellow 
stone. The inmates consist of a rector, sixty or seventy 
clerical and lay brethren, and above three hundred 
pupils. The entire labor of the institution is performed 
by the brethren, — from the celebration of a mass in the 
chapel and the giving of instruction in the scientific 
and classic departments, down to the cooking of food 



288 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

and the sweeping of corridors. One of them acted as 
guide. He was a dark, slight,, low-voiced man, speaking 
English fluently, with an aspect of gentle scholarliness, 
and refined, courteous manners. His head was shaven, 
and fringed with short, black hair, and he was habited 
in the dress of the order, — a long cassock of coarse 
black cloth, with a cape, buttoned close to the throat, 
and not a line of white about it anywhere ; — all of 
which produced a singularly illusive and spectral effect, 
making me feel, while conversing with him, that I was 
talking across a gulf not less wide than the one which 
divides our age from that of Ignatius Loyola. 

First, he showed us the Cabinet of Natural History, 
containing collections of minerals, shells, fossils, birds, 
insects, native woods, coins, e:c, etc. ; apologizing — ■ 
very unnecessarily — for their incompleteness, on the 
score of their comparative youth. For there was much 
more of them than my receptivity could take in and 
assimilate, in the short examination we gave them ; and 
I felt so fearfully overgorged at the end, as to excite a 
profound pity for visitors to the cabinets and museums 
of the twentieth century. It is to be hoped that the 
working of the inevitable law of decay may clear out 
some of the rubbish, even from these cherished accumu- 
lations, and so lighten their labor! Then he led us 
solemnly through the library, the books being all under 
lock and key, — a discreet measure, I concluded, to pre- 
vent the minds of the younger brethren from going 
astray among such profane authors as Yoltaire, Hous- 
seau, Boccacio, and Byron, whose names I saw on the 



WAITING 22V HAVANA. 289 

imprisoned volumes. Next, we inspected the labora- 
tory, the observatory, and the philosophic apparatus; 
and our guide lingered over the exhibition of a fine 
telescope with a kind of fatherly tenderness, indicative 
of great familiarity with its use. So I said to him, out 
of pure mischief, desiring to see if the settled gravity of 
his face was altogether imperturbable, — " I forget, just 
now, whether the Jesuits had anything to do with the 
sentence and imprisonment of Galileo ? " 

" My memory is much too modest to presume to prompt 
yours," he answered, with a keen glance, an amused 
quiver of the corners of the mouth, and a bow so much 
better suited to the court of Louis Fourteenth than to 
the bare scientific sanctum of a Jesuit College, that it 
silenced me forthwith. 

Then we examined the dormitories, — a vast and lofty 
hall, divided by low partitions, into spaces just large 
enough to admit an iron bedstead, a chair, and a table. 
The whole place might have been the headquarters of 
the fairy Order for neatness and regularity ; but there 
was also a bareness and rigidity about it which spoke 
powerfully of the severity and asceticism of a monastic 
institution. Finally, we saw the chapel. It is not large, 
has an open floor of marble, a gallery, a small organ, a 
high altar of colored marbles, decorated with flowers, 
images, crosses, and relics, and a smaller altar in the 
sacristy behind, where an undying lamp burns before 
the place where the Host is kept. In the vestry, we were 
shown some gorgeous priestly vestments, adorned with 
jewels. The lace on one of these is said to have cost three 
13 



290 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

thousand dollars, and was the gift of a Spanish lady of 
rank. 

Toward sunset, we drove on the Pasco de Tacon, 
and found the same stream of v olenites and black eyes 
and gay dresses flowing through it, that was described 
in an early chapter. At least, if not made up of the 
same individual waves, there was precisely the same 
general form of flood. The spectacle was too familiar to 
have any potent attraction for us, so we extended our 
drive "beyond it, to a little eminence where we could 
look out upon the ocean, over a sunset-reddened plain, 
sprinkled with the soft glooms and columnar, trunks of 
palm-trees. Forgive me if my eyes and my imagination 
linger among them. For the palm is the concrete tropic, 
and the essence of the Orient. Over it the sky iias a bluer 
depth and more velvet softness than elsewhere ; under 
it waters lapse more dreamily musical. All the sweet 
old Bible pictures have it for a back-ground ; and 
wherever it grows, Cleopatra, and Memnon, and the 
Kile, seem not afar off. Moreover, it is the symbol of 
peace — that gentle gift of God which, when we have 
tried love and joy, and found them wanting, solaces our 
aching hearts, and leads us up to the very gate of 
Heaven. 

Furthermore, Humboldt, whose authority is final in 
such matters, names the palm the " crown of the vege- 
table creation." On the island of Cuba alone, there are 
over sixty varieties ; furnishing fruit, wine, oil, thatch, 
drinking-cups, hats, fans, firewood, and fibre for coarse 
cloth and matting, to the inhabitants ; and, I doubt not, 



WAITING IN HAVANA. 291 

a hundred other uses lie dormant in their stately trunks 
and graceful boughs, waiting for a more enterprising 
race to find them out. 

We devoted the following clay to getting an idea of 
the suburbs of Havana. Marinao is a pretty, airy vil- 
lage, much resorted to by the wealthy Habaneros^ during 
the summer months. It has a close-built main street, 
with the usual variety of shops, inns, and restaurants ; 
it has several pleasant, bowery lanes, and many hand- 
some country seats, half-hidden in tropical foliage and 
flowers ; and it has a palmy hill-top, commanding a fine 
view of the adjacent country, the spires of Havana, and 
the blue sea. It has also a somewhat dilapidated min- 
eral spring, around which we found a nondescript crowd 
of water-carriers, filling small casks with its cool, but 
not overclear, flow, to supply their customers in the 
village. 

Puentes Grandes is about halfway between Havana 
and Marinao, and, though considerably smaller, greatly 
resembles the latter place in character. 

Guanabacoa, on the eastern side of the bay, is one of 
the oldest towns on the island, and is proportionably solid, 
squalid, and antiquated.- Its population numbers eight 
thousand, it has a cathedral (so called), a convent, two 
markets, &plaza^ and a queer old cemetery and church. 
Its chief attraction is found, however, in the mineral 
baths of Santa Rita, which enjoy a high reputation for 
curative power in various nervous and bilious disorders. 
The buildings are of stone, with tiled floors and stone 
basins, are tolerably well arranged, and are kept in good 



202 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

order. A noticeable feature, to a foreigner, is the num- 
ber of shrines, appropriately decorated with images and 
flowers, prepared for the devotions and offerings of the 
patients. 

In all these towns, and particularly in ancient Guana- 
bacoa, I saw much that would delight the soul of an 
artist, — quaint balconied windows, — odd, lumbering 
doors, — bowed and crumbling cornices, lintels, and 
door-posts, — a great deal of picturesque dirt, in the shape 
of richly embrowned and blackened walls, beautifully 
besmooched roofs, and grimy interiors, — also, a sparkling 
stream, a rustic bridge, a winding, shady path, — and 
everywhere, palms ! But I had only a little time to look 
at these things, and none at all to describe them; for 
which, the reader, remembering* that most of them (or 
something similar) have already appeared in these pages, 
will not forget to be grateful. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

DEPARTURE. 

Lj^ARLY the next morning, the arrival of the Amer- 
ican steamer was reported; and indubitable evi- 
dence thereof was to be found in the parlor, in the 
persons of two lively ladies in round hats and short 
dresses, and with a general air of capability and self- 
reliance that has no place among the belongings of a 
Cubanera. My heart warmed to the sight, — I had not 
seen a countrywoman's face for months, — straightway I 
went and introduced myself to them. I was received 
most kindly, and we were presently in possession of 
such facts, relative to each other's history and destina- 
tion, as were necessary to a good understanding and 
pleasant intercourse. My countrywomen were on their 
way to New Orleans, and had taken advantage of the 
steamer's touching at Havana to snatch a glimpse of a 
foreign country and foreign ways. Already they had 
explored half the city, on foot and unattended, and had 
accomplished a wonderful amount of shopping. " How 
ever did you manage it," I asked, seeing that Spanish 
w T as an unknown tongue to them. 

" We pointed to the goods that we wanted," replied 
one, "and held out our purses to the shopman. He 



294 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

counted out the price if it was too much, we shook our 
heads, and took back our money. If it was reasonable, 
we nodded, and he kept the money and wrapped up the 
goods." 

Strange to say, they had not been cheated; but 
whether it was due to their own sharpness, or to the 
shopkeeper's pity for their apparent helplessness, is more 
than I can tell. In the streets, they had met with less 
consideration. "I have heard a deal about Spanish 
courtesy, but I believe it is all a fable," said one of them, 
indignantly. " The men and boys stared, and ran after 
us ; and some of them shouted things which, I suspect, 
we may be glad that we could not understand." They 
were amazed to learn that their simple and natural 
proceeding had grievously outraged Cuban notions of 
propriety. 

At three o'clock, the interpreter of the hotel escorted 
us to the steamer. One victoria accommodated us and 
him, and another preceded us with the trunks. Once, the 
latter vehicle got considerably in advance, whereupon 
our own driver was sharply bidden to " catch up ; " and 
as soon as we were within hailing distance, the interpreter 
hurled at his colleague an oath, an injunction to keep in 
sight, and a threat, — a pregnant commentary on the 
honesty of his class. This personage also procured the 
" permits to leave," — certain bits of printed paper where- 
by the government makes a final four dollars out of 
foreigners. Looking at mine, I was amused to see, 
among other provisions, that a traveller who brings his 
wife hither, is not pernjitted to leave without her, unless 



DEPARTURE. 295 

he presents her written consent at the Passport Bureau. 
It must be conceded that despotism has its good side. 

" We find the deck of the " Cuba " piled with crates of 
oranges, and every empty state-room and corner stuffed 
with bananas, now green, but expected to make some 
advance in maturity ere we make our port. Fruit- 
boats surround the steamer,- from which the passengers 
lay in riper stores for their own use, during the voyage. 
A forest of masts is about us, with flags of every nation 
flying ; and one Spanish man-of-war, long, black, and 
villainous-looking, is moored just beyond us. The west- 
ern sky is radiant; on one side, a shimmer of sunset 
gold is on the water, on the other, a line of silver from 
the rising moon. The last trunk is lifted on board, the 
revenue officer departs, the anchor is up, and the vessel 
moves. Slowly we leave the fair city behind; more 
swiftly we pass the Cabana, the Morro, and the Punta 
fortresses, and slide out upon the open sea, followed by 
the sound of the evening drum-beat from their walls. 
Behind us, is a wavy, hazy outline of green and gold ; 
before, the wide expanse of the heaving ocean. On a 
neck of land, a tall palm comes out to look at us, and 
bends its plumy crest as with a last adieu. Farewell, 
tree beautiful and beloved! Farewell! sweet "Island 
of Flowers ! " Farewell, dear, hospitable, indolent, 
kindly, courteous people ! 

And now, O, Home-Faces ! vessel and heart beat 
steadily toward you ! 



Go to Cuba, friends and readers mine, all of you who 



296 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 

can. There are only four days — five, at most — between 
you and its greenness, its goldenness, its grace, and its 
grotesqueness. A much longer journey would not take 
you into a land richer in all that is contained in that 
pregnant word— foreign. If you go to England, you 
find a country teeming with historic interest, and full of 
a gentle picturesqueness, it is true; but far from un- 
homelike in its English tongue and ways, and whereof 
the scenes and images have been familiar, through study 
or by report, from childhood. But in Cuba, language, 
architecture, landscape, flora, manners, — all are new, 
strange, and suggestive. Life becomes continuous pic- 
ture and poem, through which you drift so inevitably 
into dreamland, as to make it forever after uncertain 
how much of what you beheld was of the aciual earth, 
how much of the domain of imagination. Especially is 
this the case in some of the old eastern and southern 
towns, where the Andalusian (and through them the 
Moorish) traits have been less exposed to the modifying 
influence of the stream of foreign travel. Linger not too 
long in Havana, therefore- better things — that is to say, 
things less modish and more picturesque — are to be had, 
for the seeking. Neither hurry from flower to flower, as 
if there were never more a to-morrow, but sit down quietly 
by each, and slowly extract its sweetness and its meaning. 
So shall Cuba be to you a thing of beauty, in the pos- 
session, and in the remembrance, a joy forevermore. 

THE END. „ 



NEW BOOKS. 

TO BE PUBLISHED IN THE FALL OF 1871. 



MY WINTER IN CUBA. By W. M. L. Jay, Author of " Shiloh." 

THE HOME AT HEATHERBR^E. A Tale by the Author of 
"Everley." 

LITURGY AND WORSHIP OF THE CHURCH OF ENG- 
LAND. Discourses by the Rev. C. J. Vaughan, D. D. With 
an Introduction by the Rev. H. C. Potter, D. D. 

MY YOUNG DAYS. By the Author of "Evening Amusements." 
With twenty illustrations by Paul Konewka. 

A TALE OF A NEST. By the Author of " Little Animals," with 
seventeen wood-cuts. 

THE ROSE DALE BOOKS ; or, East Reading fob the dear 
Little Ones. By Mrs. D. P. Sanford. 3 vols. Illustrated. 

THEODORA. A Tale for Girls. By Emilia Marrtat Norris. 

ADRIFT ON THE SEA; or, The Children's Escape. By 
Emilia Marrtat Norris. Illustrated. 

SUNNY DAYS; or, A Month at the Great Stowe. Illus- 
trated. 

THE GREY HOUSE ON THE HILL. By Mrs. Greene, Au- 
thor of " Cushions and Corners," etc. 

THE CHURCH CHORISTER. Being a Manual for Training 
Singing Boys. By Walter B. Gilbert, Organist of Trinity 
Chapel, New York. 

QUESTIONS ON THE FOURTH GOSPEL. For the use of Bible 
Classes. By the Rev. Wm. R. Huntington. 

A QUIET HELPER FOR THE SICK. Text, Prayer, and Hymn 
for four weeks. In large type. 



E. P. DUTTON & CO., Publishers, 
713 Broadway, New York. 



:by the s-a.3s^:b -a/uthoir. 

SHILOH ; 

OR, 

WITHOUT AND WITHIN. 

By W. M. L. JAY. 

Fourth Thousand, l'imo, 488 pages, $2.00. 

A Stor$ of Common Life; beautifully written, with quiet Pictures of New England 
Farm and Parish Life. 

" Its value as a work of fiction has been abundantly established. The struggle of 
good and evil in us is skillfully drawn. It is one of the few fictions in which the 
love-story portion is quite unnecessary for the majority of readers." — Church Jour- 
nal. 

" No praise of ours can add to the reputation it has already acquired. It is de- 
lightful to get hold of a good, bright, thorough Church story, such as this, after 
the dreary trash we are called upon to wade through. It is a permanent addition 
to our Church literature, and should be in every parish library." — Pacific Church- 
man. 

" It is a sweet, simple story of New England country life, showing what one ear- 
nest worker for Christ and His Church can do to build up the waste places, and kindle 
into a flame the smouldering fires of devotion and work. A city girl, from consider- 
ations of health, chooses to spend her summer at Shiloh, a country village, rather 
than at Saratoga, the fashionable watering-place ; and this is the history of her life, 
as written to her distant friend. The story is well told ; the characters are well de- 
lineated: the pathetic and the humorous a*e skillfully blended ; and we have both 
laughed and wept in reading it. We look forward with great pleasure to the future 
products of the authors pen, and are very sure that her place will be an exalted 
one among the writers of our time." — Maryland Church Record. 

" ' Shiloh ' I like more than ever, and I greatly rejoice to see it in a permanent 
form. It is an achievement — a real one — to write to the times and to write as one 
should ; to write a story (so to speak), and keep up interest without cheap sensation ; 
to write religious fiction, and yet to avoid platitudes : and all this you have done, 
and I congratulate you. Now give us what Oliver Twist asked for — more." — 
Bishop Williams, of Conn. 

" I greatly like the atmospheric infusion, instead of the disconnected intrusion, 
of the religious element, and the influence of the Church. There are parts of it I 
should hhe to preach, and the whole book is far beyond any story yet written of, or 
in, the American Church." — Bishop Doane, of Albany. 

" ' Shiloh ' is a twofold success. The contention between Bona and Mala con- 
stantly evokes valuable truths which strike us in a quite original light, and the 
social and natural features of rural life in New England have rarely been more pleas- 
ingly presented. The style is really charming, and pays the reader the compliment 
of care in the choice of epithets and the arrangement of the thoughts: Like a well- 
bred man, the author comes into the reader's presence in his best apparel." — New 
York Evening Post. 

" This is a book of decided merit. It is well written, and the authoress gives evi- 
dence of unusual descriptive powers But ' Shiloh ' is also designed, we 

think, to make apparent that no duty performed, no service offered, is too slight to 
be acceptable to God. ' Whatever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy mi^ht ; ' 
or, to use Mrs. Jay's words, ' The sterling usefulness of doing quiet duties in quiet 
ways, unobtrusively and uncomplainingly, is one which, though the world may make 
little account of it, God will surely bless and abundantly reward.' " — New York 
Herald. 

; " « Shiloh ' is a novel with a purpose, and that, too, of the most exalted kind. It 
deals in a spirit at once earnest and sincere, with some of the deepest problems that 
can occupy humanity, touching here and there, with a lighter hand, upon social 



SIIILOH ; OR, WITHOUT AND WITHIN. 

foibles and individual eccentricities. On the whole, ' Shiloh ' may be characterized 
as belonging to the healthiest type of modern fiction, and, though possessing no 
claims to striking originality in design or execution, as exhibiting a freshness of 
sty le and sentiment that will commend it to the mass of reflective readers." — New 
York Times. 

'• We can award this book — what is, after all, our highest praise — a place among 
our missionary books." — New York Mail. 

"The scene is laid in a remote New England town, and the fortunes of a weak 
parish are described. There is much cleverness in drawing a variety of character, 
a--d some sharp contrasts are presented just such as one often sees around him. A 
quiet, intelligent, and well-founded religious faith influences to a life that abounds 
in good works, and the story suggests to readers how they may go and do likewise, 
and benefit those that are around us. Even iu the sparsely populated country 
there is ample field for domestic missionary work, and if 'Shiloh' is read as it 
should be, it will have a beneficial iutiuence in inciting to these much -needed la- 
bors." — Neiv York Commercial Advertiser. 

" It has decided power and point in it, and we design to make some large extracts 
from it, to give our readers a taste of its merits." — Neiv York Observer. 

." Its pictures of New England life and people are singularly faithful. Nothing 
could well be more affecting than the story of Maggie Warren's death-bed. The 
author has a fine artist-feeling which displays itself unostentatiously, but with a 
pervading and delightful presence." — Christian Union. 

" A more carefully written book we have rarely seen. Its composition has evi- 
dently been a labor of love ; and every paragraph bears evidence of having been 
written with the care which only a niau of leisure and of earnest thought can com- 
mand. In many respects it is a remarkable book, and will amply repay the reader. 
It is to be read ; not for the narrative, though that is by no means without interest, 
but as a storehouse of earnest thought and valuable suggestion. " — The Citizen and 
Round Table. 

' ' In order to get back ' the roses ' which a gay and tiresome New York winter, 
together with some hidden heart-sorrow, has taken from her cheeks, the heroine has 
come to board for the summer at a farm-house in the little village of Shiloh. And 
we have, in this book, the history of that summer as she writes it out in letters to 
a friend. After the summer is ended, she says : ' I came to it seeking rest. I got, 
first work, then peace, finally joy.' And we know, when we have read her letters, 
that the work was the doing of whatever good she could find to do among the people 
with whom she was thrown ; that the peace was that quietness of soul which came 
when she bad gained the victory over self; and the joy, the blessing of a love which 
she had thought lost to her forever. In closing our notice, we repeat our convic- 
tion of having been brought in contact with a writer of more than ordinary power, 
with a deep, thoughtful, spiritual nature, which has imparted to • Shiloh ' so much 
of its own intensity and earnestness as cannot fail to make the events of the story 
linger long in the memory of the reader, and their many lessons help him very 
often in his daily living." — Boston Daily Advertiser,* 

" It is a sweet book, and the author has made herself a name by it. We beg her 
to continue as she has begun. There is a high seat for her in American literature ; 
and if she is wise, she will yet occupy it." — Providence Press. 

" The style is singularly simple, clear, and graceful, while the interest and variety 
of situation, incidents, and character, are such as to secure the reader's gratified at- 
tention throughout." — Chicago Interior. 

" We have been very much pleased with ' Shiloh.' It is written with power and 
sweetness. It breathes throughout, a tender, pure, and Christian spirit, seldom ob- 
truded in the sermonizing fashion ; but permeating the whole book, and giving it 
what may be styled, a moral fragrance. The name of the author is unfamiliar to 
us, but unless we are much mistaken, it is destined to become the name of a very 
popular author." — Sacramento Record. 

Sent by mail, postage paid, on receipt of price. 

E. P. Dutton & Co., Publishers, 713 Broadway, New York. 



SUNDAY ECHOES IN WEEKDAY HOURS. 

By MRS CAREY BROCK. 

3 vols., in nice box, $4.50. 



FIRST SERIES. 

A Tale Illustrative of the Collects. 

With an introduction by the Rev. J. Williams, D. D., Bishop of Connect- 
icut. Twenty-five thousand copies have been sold in England. 12mo, 
500 pages, $1.50. 

"The tone of womanly piety and gentleness pervading the entire story, and the 
simplicity with which the writer puts forth her ideal of boyhood and treats the 
Prayer-book as if it were ' a guide to the play-ground,' will win the sympathy of 
adult readers." — Athenceum. 

" A book whictt we most cordially recommend." — Record. 

" A story of a boy's life at school, very pleasant to read, and, at the same time, 
very profitable. Many children who learn the collects every Sunday, without under- 
standing them, m*y be led to study them with much more interest, by reading of 
the usethat ' Cecil Williams ' made of them." — Young Christian Soldier. 

"A story of a little boy's school-life, told in that quiet homelike style so generally 
characteristic of English books for children, and for the most part so conspicuously 
absent, from our own. The book devotes a short chapter to the practical illustration 
of each of the collects of the Prayer-book, taken in the order in which they occur. 
Any book that catches and shows not merely the marvelous beauty, but also the 
spirituality and strict practical meaning of the collects, in a manner intelligible to 
childhood and youth, is entitled to the highest praise. This praise we heartily 
accord to the volume before us." — Christian Witness. 

SECOND SERIES. 

A Tale Illustrative of the Church Catechism. 

Thirteen thousand copies have been sold in England. 12mo, 421 pages, $1.50. 

' ' To illustrate the whole Catechism by a fictitious narrative, so as at the same time 
to exalt the doctrine and kuep the fancy awake, was a great undertaking. But it is 
well executed, and we predict for the volume a large circulation." — Clerical Journal. 

" As a story it is very interesting, while it enforces in the plainest, clearest, and 
most satisfactory manner the full meaning of the weighty sentences in our Church 
Catechism. A. little girl who found its study a repulsive task, because she failed to 
comprehend what she learned, is led, in the story, through the sympathetic aid of 
a kind lady, to love its teachings, and to mould her life by them. This book 
deserves a place in every household." — Episcopal Register. 

" We can unhesitatingly and heartily commend this work as sound, helpful, inter- 
esting, and instructive." — Churchman. 

u The perusal of such a volume may be worth more to some children than six 
months of Sunday catechising by the rector." — Banner of the Church. 

"It will bring the important lessons of the Catechism home to many, to whom 
now it is only a dry detail of doctrines and duties." — Southern Churchman. 

"All Sunday-school teachers ought to have this book, and will find the chapters 
quite practicable to read to their classes, after each lesson." — Gospel Messenger. 

" This is an admirable and exceedingly interesting book for the youth at home. 
The mother who would lead her family heavenward, will find the hour or two every 
week devoted to catechising and reading to her children, much enlivened by the 
books of Mrs. Brock." — Standard of the Cross. 

THIRD SERIES. 

Journeyings of the Children of Israel. 

Though issued but a short time in England, five thousand copies have already 
been sold. 12rao, 484 pages, $1.50. 

" The story itself is interesting, showing how Sunday teaching can be applied to 
the temptations and difficulties which arise during the week. There is good, sound, 
religious instruction in these Sunday Echoes, and much wise counsel, which may be 
profitable to all readers, great or small ; and children will feel more interest in th« 
Story of the Israelites after reading it, than they did before. " — Athenxum. 

$3?" Sent by mail, postage paid, on receipt of price. 

E. P. DUTTON & CO., Publishers, 

713 Broadway, New- ork. 



